

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

r,ha,p.- P7 C opyright, No. 

Shelf.. 54- C* 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 







* 






















GRACE AT 


THREE YEARS OF 


AGE. 









GRACE PORTER; 

A JEWEL LOST AND FOUND. 


« « « « « 


/ 


By JOSEPH P. DYSART. 

ir 


PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR, 
MILWAUKEE, WIS. 



34615 


Copyright, 1899, 

By JOSEPH P. DYSART. 




Press of GILLETT & COMPANY, 
MILWAUKEE, WIS. 







V 







DEDICATED 

TO 

MY WIFE. 


✓ 



> 


4 

















I 


FOREWORD. 


“This volume, like Topsy “just growed.” The au- 
thor at first thought he would write some sketches 
of little children placed by the Children’s Home So- 
ciety. The foster parents love to tell us of the strange 
prayers and wise little sayings of the children they 
have taken to their hearts. His memory is full to 
overflowing with these gems from childhood. Al- 
most before he knew it the plan of this story unfolded 
itself. The philosophy is not his — that belongs to the 
Creator. The facts lay like threads in his hands — he 
started the loom — the resultant pattern lies before 
the reader. He said to himself, to hold the interest of 
the people there must be some fun mixed with the 
philosophy. He has stood on the shore of the Atlan- 
tic and watched the white-capped billows dash at his 
feet. The spray gives charm and zest. You would 
hardly care to linger if that were gone. That holds 
you, you wait — and, waiting, listen. This volume was 
not written for the foam but for the ocean. The bits 
of spray are put on the waves to keep the reader 
“Down by the sea” that he may listen to the billows 
of these truths about motherhood and Statehood 
as they break on the beach of his reason. 


CHAPTER I. 

Off for the Centennial. 

He who helps a child helps humanity with a distinctness, 
with an immediateness , which no other help , given to human 
creatures in any other stage of their human life , can possibly 
give again . — Phillips Brooks. 

EADY at last,” said Mrs. Pauline 
Porter late at night on the last 
day of September, 1876. “I am 
sincerely ,glad of it,” said her 
husband David, “for these prep- 
arations have been a great tax 
upon you. Now let us- try to get a good night’s rest, 
and then we shall be ready for the morning train.” 

In an hour, when the old clock struck twelve, 
everybody in the farmhouse was fast asleep. At the 
first break of day the foot of that genius, called the 
“hired man,” was heard on the stairway. Coming 
into the kitchen he is met with a hearty “good morn- 
ing, Jim” from Mary, the maid of all work. “I guess 
you had better call Masther and Misthress before you 
go out to do ‘the chores’.” 

“All right, Mary, O’im your obedient.” 

The Porters were called, and in a few minutes 
everybody was busy putting things to rights. It is 
astonishing how many odds and ends one must look 
after on the eve of a journey. 



8 


Grace Porter; 


Reader, do you remember how many times you 
unstrapped your trunk before you went on that last 
visit? It takes about as much grace to get a trunk 
packed and ready as it does to put up a stove-pipe and 
have everything safe. 

“Congratulations,” said Jim, as he came in to 
breakfast. “It is a foine mornin’. There is not a 
sign of a cloud in the sky, only jist a bit of gray on 
the hill-tops.” 

“All right,” said Mr. Porter, “that reminds me 
that we had a ruddy sunset last night, and you know 
that ‘evening red and morning gray, sends the trav- 
eler on his way’.” 

Breakfast over, the family carriage is at the door. 
“Now, Mary, you will take good care of everything, 
won’t you, while I am gone?” said Mrs. Porter. 

“I will do my best.” 

“I know you will, and I will bring you something 
real nice from the Centennial.” 

“Good-bye.” 3 ■ 

“Good-bye.” 

“Only half an hour to train time, Jim. You had 
better drive a little faster — and yet, as we have our 
tickets through to Philadelphia and have nothing to 
do but check our baggage, fifteen minutes is plenty 
for this short mile. You know as much about the 
old farm as I do, Jim, and you will just be David 
Porter while we are away.” 

“Don't worry a minute about things at home. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


9 


Trust me for that. You folks should jist have as good 
a time as you can ; Centennials are ruther scarce. Get 
up, Nelly! there's the whistle over at the nixt sta- 
tion." 

David Porter felt a little pang of regret at leaving, 
even for two weeks, the farm he had inherited from 
his father. It had become, in truth, a part of his life. 
“A townsman may be born in one city, educated in a 
second, married in a third, and work in a fourth. His 
houses are but inns, which he uses and forgets; he 
has no roots, and is a vagrant on the face of the earth. 
But the countryman is born and bred, and marries, 
and toils, and dies on one farm, and the scene he 
looks at in his old age is the same he saw in his 
boyhood." 

Besides Jim and Mary, the Porters leave behind 
them only Grandma Porter, who for years has been 
a widow, with only David, the youngest of her twelve 
children, left in the old farm-house. Ten noble sons 
and daughters have gone out, one by one, into happy 
homes of their own. One little lamb had been taken 
to the Shepherd’s bosom. 

The train was on time. There were hurried part- 
ings of many fond hearts — a whistle — the wheels are 
moving, handkerchiefs flutter from open windows, 
and the long journey is begun. Three hours to Mil- 
waukee, then two more, and Chicago is reached. Here 
they found they could make the best connections for 
the East by waiting until io o’clock at night. A 


10 


Grace Porter; 


policeman advised them to visit Lincoln Park, and 
here they spent a restful, joyous afternoon. The 
leaves, untouched by frost, had rounded out their 
brief life and delighted the eye with the colors of the 
rainbow, in endless variety and combination. The 
sportive fish, without fear of man, darted here and 
there in the pellucid waters. What attracted their 
attention most were the water-lilies, in three shades 
(the colors of our national emblem) — red, white and 
blue. In low, tender converse about loved ones, the 
beauty with which the Infinite Hand hath touched 
the earth, and kindred topics — converse such as 
becomes two lives that are completely harmonized 
in faith and love — the afternoon of a perfect autumn 
day is quickly passed. As the sun is setting, and the 
peace of twilight falls on trees and walks and shady 
nooks and blushing flowers, the hush reveals some- 
thing unnoticed before — the sad cadence of wavelets, 
as with measured rhythm they break forever on the 
beach. 

“What a priceless blessing this beautiful spot must 
be to thousands of aching hearts, David! and what 
strength and inspiration must here be given to many 
who are ‘weary and heavy laden’.” 

“Yes, Pauline, that is true; the gems that crown 
the city are the parks, where the poor man can get a 
sight of the grass and the breath of the great lake 
again puts the roses on the wan cheek.” 

“And David, what an antidote to atheism !” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


11 


‘True, true, Pauline. ‘All things were made by 
Him, and without Him was not anything made that 
was made/ ” 

At ten o’clock Chicago is left behind, and in the 
afternoon of the next day Pittsburg is passed. In the 
glow of twilight they sweep around the Horse-shoe 
Curve on the Pennsylvania R. R. “I passed by here 
once,” said Mr. Porter, “when the full moon was 
shining, and I will never forget how beautiful 
appeared a little lake that slept in the lap of the 
valley, hundreds of feet below.” 

When Harrisburg was reached they decided, as 
Philadelphia was full of strangers, it would be wise 
to rest there, and complete the journey in the morn- 
ing. Coming to the depot at an early hour, they 
noticed a crowd gather on the platform. Curiosity 
prompted them to ask the reason. In answer, they 
were told that an abandoned child had been found, 
without a clue to her identity. It is said that a cer- 
tain kind of twig, held in expert hands, will turn 
toward the earth and reveal hidden springs of water ; 
so the sight of a helpless babe will open undiscovered 
fountains of mother-love in the heart of a woman. 

“Husband, you know that I have long wanted to 
take a baby girl, and this is my chance.” 

“But, wife, you couldn’t take her to Philadelphia.” 

“I know that,” said she, “but for the sake of the 
child I will give up the Centennial.” 

“But you don’t know anything about her or her 
parents.” 


12 


Grace Porter; 


“She looks,” Mrs. Porter replied, “as if she is 
bright and healthy, and I don’t care anything about 
her ancestry. If we don’t know them, neither do they 
know us, and so can never interfere. Something says 
to me, here is a poor little birdling that has no nest, 
and it is my duty to nestle her in my bosom and carry 
her to our family tree in the West.” 

“I am content,” said he; “the heart of her husband 
can safely trust a noble woman.” 

“You go on, and I will go back,” said the wife. 

“Not I,” he replied. “I would be utterly unworthy 
of you if I should do that. I want to share in the 
sacrifice, and then we can together enjoy the fruitage 
of this self-denial.” 

So it was settled that the next train should bear 
them westward. 

Resuming the conversation, Mr. Porter said : 
“Wife, your remark about this baby (I mean our 
daughter) being nestless reminds me of the story of 
Abraham Lincoln. One day the wearied President 
was taking a short walk in the White House grounds. 
His companion was both surprised and delighted to 
see him thrust his long arm under a bush, and ten- 
derly lifting a frightened little bird, carefully placed 
it back in its nest. I thought of the story at once 
when I saw the baby in your arms. What shall we 
call this young lady?” 

“Will you leave that to me and be satisfied?” said 
Pauline. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


13 


“Of course I will,” replied her husband. “Upon 
you will fall the burden of the care, and you should 
have this privilege.” 

“Well, this is my thought,” she answered. “It is 
by the favor of Heaven this sunbeam comes into our 
home, and so gratitude will give her the name of 
Grace.” 

Very little of interest transpired on the homeward 
journey. At Chicago the following message was 
sent to Jim Donahue, the hired man: 

“Chicago, Oct. 5th. 1876. 

Meet wife, me and Miss Grace on afternoon train. 

David Porter.” 


CHAPTER II. 


A Strange Home-Coming. 

A babe in a house is a well spring of pleasure. — Tupper. 

HEW! What does that mean?” 
said Jim, when he read the tele- 
gram; “and who is Miss Grace, 
anyway? Oi niver heard of the 
loikes of her before. Have 
Masther and Misthress gone 
mad to come back in foive days?” Telegrams are 
common property in villages, and soon everybody 
was wondering what brought the Porters back so 
soon, and who was Miss Grace? What was the 
rest of her name? Was she big or little, old or 
young? The curiosity was so great that a crowd 
was gathered at the depot when the train arrived. 
The mystery deepened as Mr. Porter stepped off the 
train with a baby in his arms. People were almost 
beside themselves to know the story of this strange 
home-coming. The Porters, considering this their 
own affair, were silent. They quickly entered their 
carriage and were rapidly driven home by Jim, 
who seemed sort of awed by the presence of Miss 
Grace. But, though speech failed him, for short 
time, he was doing a lot of thinking. As when 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


15 


the waters of a brook pile up behind a fallen tree, to 
break away in a torrent, so we shall soon have a flood 
of talk from Jim. Mary met them at the gate with 
open-eyed wonder. 

“I promised you I would bring something home 
to you when we returned,” said Mrs. Pauline Por- 
ter, “and here it is.” As she spoke she turned down 
the veil and showed the rosy little face. “Oh!” was 
the only word Mary could find — it was all so sudden. 
When husband and wife had tenderly greeted the 
Grandma at the threshold, the baby was laid in her 
open arms, David joyfully saying, “Mother, I have 
the pleasure to present you our daughter. This is 
Miss Grace.” 

“I am glad to give the little lamb a place in my 
heart among the score of grandchildren with which 
God has already blessed me.” 

This was said in a quite, grateful way. The 
streams of love flow deep and silently in a Grandma's 
heart. In a few minutes, Jim, having stabled the 
team, comes hurrying in with his face turned into an 
interrogation point. 

“Misthress, oi'm most dyin’ to ask about the little 
lady. Is it Miss Grace yez call her? Shure, that's a 
swate name. Could a big shpalpeen of the loikes av 
me be afther takin' the little angel in me lap? Shure, 
I never brake a babby, though oi'm so big and awk- 
ward. Ish it on the platform of a depot yez find the 
innocent? But wouldn't I loike to choke the cruel 


16 


Grace Porter; 


father and mother that could lave a rosebud loike 
that to be bitten by the frosts? But if she had n’t been 
lost she could ’nt have been found, and she never 
would have been our babby. Oi’m jist thinkin’ this 
will be a foiner place to work — though it’s never been 
a bad one — and even the cat and dog will be happier. 
Here, Tabby and Bruno, come and see the little 
lady!” These household pets came cautiously for- 
ward, and with a low purr and a little bark gave 
Grace a welcome. “Shure” (and Jim’s flood of words 
broke loose again), “you ’re a bit jewel that has 
dhropped out of somebody’s ring, and you’ll do 
foine to crown this childless home. If it was in the 
ould countree I would say you would loikely be a bud 
off the Royal tree. You’re swate enough to be a 
grandchild of Queen Victoria herself. But you take 
her, Misthress Porter, before she makes a fool of me.” 

The next day a stream of people, rich and poor, 
old and young, came pouring into the home of the 
Porters to see Miss Grace. The telegram had fixed 
her name and rank. A gradual change came over 
the thought and life of this family. “A little child 
shall lead them.” 

It is a day of transfiguration when God sends a 
child for angelic ministry into a home. A new sun 
shines out of a new sky on a new world. The flowers 
are sweeter, the grass is greener, and the bird-songs 
have a new note of gladness. 

Mrs. Pauline Porter, the new mamma, took the 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


17 


care of the child upon herself. Recognizing the jus- 
tice of it, she at once said to Mary : “This change in 
our life will throw more work upon you, and I will 
add $3.00 a month to your wages. That is only fair 
and right.” Mr. Porter, who frequently went to the 
house 01 some neighbor for an hour in the evening, 
now spent his time of leisure at home. He always 
was a man of studious habits. Now his reading 
turned toward sociology, and especially the rescue 
and care of homeless children. He became more 
domestic, day by day. He was a man of marked intel- 
ligence and spotless character. Something, however, 
was lacking, which Grace supplied. Ruggedness in 
character, as in rocks, is better of relief ; and the love 
of a child, like tufts of moss, covers it over and adds 
to its beauty. David Porter was always strong; to 
this he now 7 adds tenderness. The head once outran 
the heart, but now love overtakes thought ; the emo- 
tions and the intelligence come to equilibrium. Mrs. 
Pauline Porter had a new birth into motherhood — in 
a day. Her heart was at rest before her home was 
reached. Grace simply touched the spring, and the 
marvelous music that belongs to maternity began to 
reverberate in her heart. The harmony is there; it 
only w^aits for little fingers. She would have been no 
more truly a mother, at the end of a week, if this 
child had been her own flesh and blood. A great rap- 
ture came into her life. Gratitude to heaven was her 
daily thought. This was tempered with a fear she 


18 


Grace Porter; 


might prove unworthy, and her jewel be taken away. 
She had a new zest for prayer, and a new name ran 
through it like a key-note. If one word could 
describe her new-found life, its joy and calm, its hush 
and sweetness, it would be that full word, content- 
ment. 

Mary, the faithful domestic, had little to say, but 
evidently carried her manifold burdens with a lighter 
heart. On her way from room to room, apparently 
without plan and as if by instinct, she often happened 
to stop for a moment beside the cradle. It was 
noticed she went with a quicker step ; her toil seemed 
more like play than work, and she was singing almost 
from morn till night. 

The effect produced on Grandma, by the arrival of 
Grace, might be likened to the influence of autumn 
winds and sunbeams on the apple-orchard — the fruit 
is ripened and mellowed. The Bible declares the 
profoundest philosophy in life when it is said, “There 
is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is 
that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth 
to poverty/’ She had never withheld anything from 
neighbors and friends. There was, as a result, no 
trend toward poverty in her life. On the other hand, 
she had always been scattering her strength, her 
prayers, her love, herself. The action (action and 
reaction are equal) had clothed her face with an 
attractiveness that is never found apart from a life 
of purity and unselfishness. Her smile was like a 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


19 


sunbeam ; benevolence seemed to lurk in the corners 
of her mouth, and there was a charm even in her 
wrinkles. No one would mistake the face of a broker 
for that of a benefactor. There is a marvelous con- 
trast between the features of one who has lived for 
himself, and one who has lived for others. In old age 
we come to look what we are. As the hands of a 
clock indicate the action of the mainspring, so chin 
and mouth and nose and eyes reveal the heart-life. 
“May no evil fall upon this little lamb that has come 
into our fold,” was her daily prayer. That son of 
Erin known as Jim Donohue was as happy as a lark. 
He formerly spent his evenings in the village, and 
was sometimes seen in a saloon. Now he only cared 
to get the mail, stop a half hour in the grocery, and 
then go early back to the farm. He loved, betimes, 
to sit beside the cradle and softly sing, 

“Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 

Angels guard thy sleeping bed.” 

The neighbors declared he sometimes forgot him- 
self and sang this lullaby to the horses while plowing 
in the field. This was probably a slander. The 
typical Irishman is so abundantly able to take care of 
himself that people will tell any sort of a story about 
him. 


CHAPTER III. 


Pauline’s Practical Joke. 

11 Heaven lies about us in our infancy — Wordsworth. 

NE day, about a year after the baby 
came from far away to bless this 
Badger state home, Jim, who had 
long waited and wondered, said 
suddenly to Mrs. Pauline Porter : 
“Misthress, excuse me, but isn’t 
it about toime the little angel was christened? I think 
I would be afther feelin’ better if this were done, and 
as for Grace— -God bless her — there is nothing too 
good for her.” 

“Wait a little longer, Jim”; and then aside she 
added, “Bless his dear heart, how he loves our child.” 

When Jim was gone, Mr. Porter said, “Wife, what 
did you mean when you told Jim to wait a little?” 

“Guess,” said she. 

“How can I unlock your riddle, having not key?” 

“David, what do you think our daughter will need 
above everything else as she grows up into girlhood 
and womanhood?” 

“I should say the love and companionship of a 
brother.” 

“Exactly my thought. I can see that she is grow- 
ing selfish already.” 



A Jewel Lo3t and Found. 


21 


“If Providence will send us some poor, unloved 
little fellow, I’ll be the happiest man in town,” he 
replied. 

Time and again this hope was expressed by him. 
She marked the longing of his heart, and gradually 
evolved a plan to satisfy him and bring Grace what 
she needed most. While this plan grew into a pur- 
pose, the ice of the long winter melted before the 
breath of spring, and this in turn gave way to the 
glory of summer. Again the cycle is completed and 
the harvest has come. Mrs. Pauline Porter is out 
leading her daughter along the roadway for an airing. 
They meet two children, a girl and boy, on their way 
home from school. When they have passed, Grace, 
looking up in her face, said in an earnest way: 

“Mamma, wy tant I ’ave a ’ittle brover dest like ’at 
’ittle did?” 

“You little darling, would you like one?” 

“Besser ’an anysin else, Mamma.” 

Again she said “wait.” But soon her purpose 
grew into a resolution, and in soliloquy she said, 
“Before the month is over I will bring joy to the 
hearts of husband and child. With the abundance 
we have, and so many little children ready to perish, 
it would be wrong for me to hesitate. Besides, of 
all hunger, that of the heart is the deepest. It is 
both a privilege and a duty. I will go.” A few days 
later she announced that she was going to the city to 
get a few little things they needed. The language 


22 


Grace Porter; 


was carefully chosen. David failed to catch her mean- 
ing then; later, memory brought the words back to 
him. September 28th, 1878, finds Pauline Porter in 
a hospital. After looking along the whole row of 
little beds, she selected a little boy only three days 
old, saying : “Pll take this one because he is the most 
helpless.” 

“You are a wise little woman,” replied the matron, 
“for love groweth out of helplessness.’ 

Later, when on her way to the depot, a sudden fear 
arose. “This child is so little, maybe David won’t 
let me keep him. Whatever shall I do then?” Pres- 
ently she formed a new resolve. ‘Til go the other 
way,” and calling to the driver of the hack, she said, 
“Take me to the other depot.” The middle of the aft- 
ernoon, September 29th, found her three miles from 
home at the house of a dear friend. Her story is 
quickly told ; then she added, “I am glad I came this 
way. Somebody would have known me on the other 
line, but coming this way my secret is safe. I have 
planned this thing, and it will come out all right if 
you will help. I will go around by the train, and 
then you and your husband drive across. Start a 
little after ten; that will bring you to our house 
about eleven. Put baby in a basket. Have him 
leave you with the horse down the road out of sight. 
Let him set the basket on the doorstep of the sitting 
room, ring the bell (I will sleep with one eye open), 
and then leave as fast and quietly as he can.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


23 


“All right, it shall be as you say,” said her friend. 

“A little after ten the lights are all out, and all — 
save one — are fast asleep in the farmhouse. Another 
hour passes. Clang ! it is the signal. 

“David, David, hurry and go downstairs, some- 
body has rung the bell !” 

Five minutes later a voice calls up the stairs: 

“Wife, come down quick, here is a little boy in 
a basket !” 

When she reaches his side she finds that the fear 
that filled her heart has gone over into his. Looking 
into her face he says, in a pleading way, “Wifey, we 
will keep the little fellow, won’t we?” 

She readily assents. 

Then he says, reverently, “There was a man sent 
from God whose name was John. Shall we call this 
little man John, too; he seems to have come from 
heaven?” 

“If you wish,” said she. 

Thej sat watching the two children almost until 
the break of day. After hearing him express his 
wonder half a dozen times, as to who had brought 
the basket, she concluded it was safe, and made a 
full confession. 


CHAPTER IV. 


How to Become a Millionaire. 


Ood sends children to enlarge our hearts , and make us un- 
selfish: to give our souls higher aims : to bring round our fire- 
sides bright faces, happy smiles and loving tender hearts. My 
soul blesses the great Father every day that He has gladdened 
the earth with little children . — Mary Howitt. 



O you are the Providence of the 
family,” said David to his wife, 
“and this is one of the little 
things you said the family 
needed.” 


“You are right; he is little, 


only four days old, and we needed him. I have 
an instictive feeling we shall be proud of him some 
day, and you have heard that a ‘woman’s instinct is 
better than man’s reason.’ We will need him to man- 
age the farm when we are old. Grace will need his 
manly strength, while she will bless him in return 
with womanly tenderness. And then, who knows 
but he may be needed to defend our country’s flag?” 

“Did you get any other little things for the fam- 
ily?” said he. 

“Why, yes, some little dresses and shoes and a 
set of blocks and a little express wagon, and — but 
husband, I can’t bear to have you feel unkind toward 
me. Your tone and manner suggest you are offended. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


25 


I would rather take John back than feel you are 
angry because I brought him.” 

“No, wife, I was just getting even with you. You 
played a practical joke on me when you sent me to 
get the basket. Now I was having a little fun with 
you. I am glad the lad is here, and nothing but 
death shall take him away.” 

As the farm-house was large and the sleeping 
rooms widely separated, the rest of the family were 
undisturbed by this midnight episode. 

The morning was one never to be forgotten. 
Mary threw up her hands and exclaimed, “You will 
have to carry that boy on a pillow. Seems to me I 
never saw such a little fellow!” Grandma just 
opened her heart a little wider, as quietly as open 
the gates of dawn. As the traveler wanders among 
the ruins of some old castle of the middle ages, the 
guide will ever and anon touch some secret spring, 
and another room, as if by magic, will open before 
him. So there seem to be many hidden rooms in the 
heart of a loving grandma, that will quickly open at 
the touch of a little child. 

“Pauline, do you know anything about his par- 
ents?” said grandma. 

“Not very much, mother, only that he is healthy 
in mind and body, and that is all I care about. 
If our home is what it ought to be, he will grow up to 
be a good, intelligent member of society. I agree 
pretty well with our doctor, I think, who says that 


26 


Grace Porter; 


'every baby is born with a heathen soul which the 
home must convert.' If he only goes the right way 
under our influence, that is enough." 

“That reminds me," said grandma, “of the story 
of Philip Henry, the father of Mathew Henry, the 
commentator. He won the heart of a nobleman’s 
daughter. Her parents objected to their marriage, 
saying, 'Where did this young man come from? 
T don’t care where he came from,’ said she, 
‘I know where he is going, and I want to go with 
him.’ " 

“Right, grandma, the ‘going’ is of vastly more 
consequence than the ‘coming,’ the training than the 
heredity, the destiny than the origin." 

“A child, without doubt, inherits physical strength 
or weakness, but the mind is just about what we 
make it by the quickening contact with other minds. 
As for the highest character, that is built up like a 
granite building — stone on stone, chiseled by the 
hands and cemented by the hearts of parents. In 
doing this, tenderness is more needed than strength, 
and so the principal part of character-building falls 
to the lot of the mother." 

“God grant I may be able to build as wisely as 
you have, grandma, and that my children, like yours, 
‘may arise and call me blessed.’ " 

The face of little Grace was a study. She watched 
him very quietly at first. It seemed as if she hardly 
dared to breathe lest he might vanish from sight. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


‘27 


Or, were the “Angels of the little children" whisper- 
ing to her, and she bound by their spell? When she 
caught sight of his little feet (what is so cute as a 
baby’s wriggling toes, anyway?) she clapped her 
hands with delight, exclaiming, “Mamma, ’des ’ook! 
how ’ed and how ’ittle.” Then, summoning all her 
courage, she timidly touched them one after another, 
saying, 

“ ’Is ittle pid went to martet, 

’Is un taid at ’ome, 

’Is un had bed and butte’ 

An is un had none 

An is un sed I tant fin’ my way ’ome.” 

Finding the baby was not like an electric eel, and 
would not hurt, she next put her hand on the top of 
his little head. 

“Hasn’t he a nice, soft head?” said mamma. 

“ ’Es, nisch, soft ’ed.” 

Later, when she wanted to touch his head again, 
her mamma, being afraid she might press too hard, 
gently took her hand away. She was disappointed 
and said, “More, mamma, more.” 

“More what, my child?” 

“More soft ’ed.” 

“Wife,” said Mr. Porter, “I have figured out that 
these children have the same birthday. You remem- 
ber we thought Grace was about a week old when 
we found her, and so we fixed on the 25th of Sep- 


tember.” 


28 


Grace Porter; 


“Yes, that must be correct,” said she. “It was 
the 28th of September they told me John was three 
days old.” 

Jim Donohue had been on a visit, and so knew 
nothing about a second bird coming into this home 
nest for several days. Mary told him in the kitchen 
when he returned. Bursting into the sitting room, 
he shouted, “Fath, I wish you much joy! First a 
girl and then a boy. Let me put me eyes on the little 
Apostle. I hear yez call him John. Shure, he looks 
as much loike his sister as two peas in a pod.” 

“Now Jim,” said Mrs. Porter, “we are ready for 
the christening. We will take both of the children 
to our church the last Sunday of October, and give 
them this privilege. It is all arranged.” 

“Shure, and it’s meself that will be there. And 
now, Misther Porter, oi would loike to ask, is it a 
wake the bye has bin wid yez?” 

“Yes, a week ago to-day he came.” 

“Oi’d loike to know how much you’d call him 
worth at the end of siven days?” 

“Why, Jim, no money would buy him.” 

“If yez had to surrinder one, wouldn’t yez rather 
part with the bye than with the ould farm?” 

“Indeed we would not. These children are a part 
of our life, Jim, and nothing would induce us to give 
them up.” 

“That makes me think of a bit of a story I heard 
in the ould countree,” said Jim. “No, I guess it was 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


29 


down below Chicago, the first year afther I left the 
ould sod. An agent of a society that places children 
widout friends in ixcellent families, put a waif wid 
a family phwat had no child. Afthur some months 
he went out to see them. The mother’s face shone 
as if it was the face of one of the howly angels. 
Spakin’ up to her, he said, as he looked at the swate 
little flower in the cradle, lookin’ as foine as any rose 
on a bush, ‘Would ye be afther takin’ a million dol- 
lars for yir babby?’ ‘No money would buy her,’ said 
she. ‘Then, fath,’ says he, ‘yir a millionaire.’ Some 
time after this man tould a big audience, at a meetin’ 
for orphans, phwat the woman said, and how he told 
her, ‘Shure, and yez are a millionaire.’ Then the 
man said, ‘There’s a lot of millionaires here to-night, 
and yez niver found it out. Some of yez have some 
foine sons and ixcellent darters, or some of each, but 
jist because yez have but little ghould ye think yez 
in danger of goin’ to the poor-’ouse. Jist istimate yir 
wealth by countin’ yir childern.’ Next day a man 
grasped the hand of the spaker on the strate, and 
with his big round face shinin’ with joy, said, ‘Oi’m 
very glad I heard yez spake last night. I thought I 
was very poor, but when I heard phwat the woman 
who took the babby said, I jist thought it out, and 
fath, oi’m rich— very rich; oi’m worth twilve mil- 
lions.’ ” 

And so the Porters had gained wealth rapidly— 
two millions in two years. 


CHAPTER V. 


Two Girls Escape From a Captivity Caused by Self- 
ish Greed. 

“ If nights were only twice as long 
’ Twould be a splendid thing; 

Cause don’t yon know, when you're tucked up, 

Sometimes your mother ’ll sing; 

And then you lie and watch the stars 
Or maybe there’s a moon; 

And then you get all nice and warm 
A nd sleepy pretty soon.” 

Eliza Lincoln Gould. 

ENEVOLENCE is like leaven — 
it works through a whole com- 
munity. The kindness of the 
Porters become contagious. Two 
families, whose farms joined the 
Porter homestead, James and 
Thomas Andrews (brothers) had three boys each, 
but there was no daughter in either family. Under 
other circumstances they would have hardly done 
more than give this a passing thought — perhaps, at 
times, have felt an unexpressed regret. The author, 
after nearly fifty years, has never forgotten his sense 
of loss, when the death angel carried away his baby 
sister and left him only the companionship of a 
brother. He has always felt that he would have been 
a truer, manlier man, had her sweet face continued 
to brighten his childhood days. It seems to him, 
even now, as if a part of his heart was buried in that 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


31 


little grave. Oh, boys, appreciate the priceless value 
of a sister, and she will prove the jewel of your life ! 
Thomas Andrews once had a daughter, whom the 
Shepherd needed in His heavenly flock, and called 
her above during the tenth summer of a beautiful 
life. 

The sunshine Grace had brought into the Porter 
home awakened a longing — still unspoken — in the 
hearts of both of these families. Even then they 
would hardly have taken any steps to complete their 
family circle, had it not Keen for a tea-party at the 
home of David Porter. Jas. Andrews was congratu- 
lating them on their good fortune in finding two 
such bright and beautiful children. 

“There are others that need homes,” said Mr. Por- 
ter. “I am reminded this moment that only yester- 
day I had a letter from a friend in the city, who is 
intensely interested in two homeless girls he wants 
to place in good families. I am impressed, my neigh- 
bors, that this is a golden opportunity for both of 
you. The girls are friends already. They would be 
happier still if you would only make them cousins.” 

“Where are they now?” said Mrs. Jas. Andrews. 

“Inside of four brick walls, and have no mother,” 
Mr. Porter replied. 

“Were they committed for some crime?” 

“Oh, no,” said he. “It is the old story of children, 
unloved and hungry ; a zealous officer and accommo- 
dating court commissioner, both of whom get liberal 


32 


Grace Porter; 


fees, but keep no proper record. Only a Court of 
Record should ever commit a child anywhere. My 
friend writes that the officer who worked up this 
case took both girls at once, but charged the County 
double price, as if he had made two journeys. The 
board bills in the institution have cost the County 
nearly one thousand dollars ($1,000.00) already. They 
grew weary of this burden and asked my friend to 
help them roll it off. The Chairman went with him 
and asked to have half a dozen children, found there, 
given back to the County. The managers referred 
the matter to their lawyer. Then one legal tech- 
nicality after another was thrown in the way. Finally 
these were brushed aside in the case of these two 
girls, and you can have them. What do you say, 
my friends ?” 

“But if we should not love them?” 

“My friend would bring them to you,” said Mr. 
Porter. “It can only be determined by trial, whether 
a child will fit a home, by living in that home. He 
will prefer to come again after a few weeks and 
remove them, if you have not taken them into your 
hearts. You should make allowance for these girls. 
They have been in the big building, living an artifi- 
cial life so long, that they will be ‘institutionalized'; 
and, as Lyman Beecher used to say, it will be some 
time before ‘nature begins to caper.' ” 

‘How long have they been herded there?” 

“About four years.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


33 


“How sad that is. My mother-heart has never 
quite healed since Jennie was taken away, and it now 
bleeds, it bleeds, for these motherless girls,” said Mrs, 
Thomas Andrews. “Please write to-night — no, tele- 
graph — Mr. Porter, to bring one of them to me 
to-morrow.” 

“I can’t bear to think of their being separated 
entirely ; I will take the other,” said Mrs. Jas, 
Andrews. “And you, sister mine, must take your 
choice; that is due to your bereaved heart. I never 
have known such a pang — I will take the other.” So 
it was settled and the telegram was sent. 

“Come and see our pets in their cribs,” said Mrs. 
Porter, as she led the way into the room where Grace 
and John lay wrapped in the sweetest slumber earth 
ever knows — that of innocent childhood. 

“Let me see, how old are the children now?” said 
one of the ladies. “A month ago we celebrated their 
birthday — September 25th. Grace was then three 
and John a year old,” replied the mother. “This 
little girl,” said Mrs. Porter, “is 'cuteness’ itself. She 
stayed at church with her father last Sunday for the 
first time. When they came home I asked her about 
the service, and she said, ‘Oh, the folks they sing’d 
two or free times and the preacher he prayed, and 
then we turn home.’ 'Didn’t the pastor preach?’ 'Oh, 
’es, a long, long time.’ ‘But what did he say?’ ‘Oh, 
he des talked and talked and talked, but he didn’t 
say anysing.’ I told our pastor yesterday when he 


34 


Grace Porter; 


called, and he laughed as though he would fall into 
hysterics. And her prayers! I never heard anything 
so original. It is probably six months ago when I 
taught her, ‘Now I lay me down to sleep/ getting her 
to repeat it word by word, until I said, ‘Amen/ She 
said ‘A-man.’ Then, jumping up and looking around 
the room, she inquired, ‘Oh, mamma, where’s the 
man?’ One night, maybe a month ago, her prayer 
took this form, ‘God bless all my dear friends, and 
keep them blessed, then I won’t need to ask every 
night.’ ” 

“What a genius she must be. I am reminded 
of a little ‘tootsy’ philosopher in Michigan, who, ask- 
ing for God’s care for every member of the family, 
added, earnestly, ‘And Lord, please tate dood tare of 
oorself. If anysing should happen to oo we’d do 
all to smash.’ ” This was told by Jas. Andrews. 

Mrs. Porter, resuming, said, “Only to-night Grace 
said (her heart is always going out toward orphans), 
‘Lord, I thank thee for my dood home and my kind 
papa and mamma, and please find nice homes for all 
the ’ittle homeless boys and dirls.’ ” 

“Oh, the blessed little unlocker of hearts, her 
prayer will be partly answered to-morrow,” said Mrs. 
Thos. Andrews, standing beside the crib of the child. 
“How beautiful she looks. I feel as though I wanted 
to pinch her cheeks to make sure she is flesh and 
blood. She looks for all the world like the dream of 
an artist, and reminds me of the face of Evangeline.” 


A Jkwkl Lost and Found. 


35 


As they filed out, lingering and looking back from 
the doorway, Mr. Porter bent over Grace to tuck in 
the covering. The child stirred, opened her eyes, 
threw her arms about his neck, drew him to her, and, 
kissing him, she murmured, “My dear papa, I love oo 
so.” Her arms relaxed, and in a minute she was 
asleep again. He quietly said, “She is sometimes 
naughty, but this is the compensation.” 

On the evening train next day Mr. Porter’s friend, 
Mr. Edwards, brought the girls, who would now be 
cousins through all the years. The families were 
greatly pleased, and all their hearts opened to them, 
as the rosebuds open to drops of dew. 

“I shall call my daughter Jennie, in memory of her 
who has gone to the beautiful land,” said Mrs. Thom- 
as Andrews. 

“And I,” said Mrs. Jas; Andrews, “will call my 
daughter Agnes in honor of the only daughter of our 
friend who brings her here.” 

“Thank you,” said Mr. Edwards, “it will be great- 
ly appreciated. It was very pathetic,” he added, “to see 
these girls as they came into the country. They 
stood by the window, and clapped their hands 
with delight as they saw the cattle in the fields, 
and the brilliant leaves that still linger on the tree- 
tops. Oh, friends, every child ought to come 
into close communion with nature. There is 
a very important and intimate relation between the 
under-sole and the over-soul.” 


36 


Grace Porter; 


“I hope to see the day,” said Mr. Porter, “when 
bright children, like these, will never see the inside of 
an institution. I shall dedicate my efforts, in due 
time, to bring that about. These girls will be lonely 
for a few days, but that will pass off, and the mother- 
hood of these homes will do the rest.” 

As Mr. Edwards took his leave next morning he 
quietly said, “I will leave you two copies of some 
verses I wrote yesterday on the train, a copy for each 
family.” They were read with delight after he had 
gone. 

In His Name — who says to thee 
“ Tis not your Father’s will on high 
That one such little child should die — 
Forbid them not to come to me.” 

In His Name — who says to thee 
“Because of such God’s kingdom is — 
Except ye be a child like this 
Ye cannot heaven’s kingdom see.” 

In His Name — who says to thee 
(Pointing to an infant mild) 

“He who receiveth one such child 
Receiving him — receiveth me.” 

In His Name — this child to thee 
Cometh helpless and unblessed, 

Lead thou this homeless heart to rest ; 

And as thou leadest — God lead thee. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A Rare Day in June. 

Children are what the mothers are. — Landor. 

HREE year and more had rolled 
away (How fast the time flies 
when children gladden the 
home!) with but little change in 
the Porter family, only the chil- 
dren were a little larger, and the 
father and mother a little nobler. Jim and Mary 
were a little happier (the old kitchen could tell 
the story now if had a tongue), and grandma’s 
face beamed with an added ray of heavenly light. 
A cousin of Grace and John was there on a 
visit — little Edith Wilson. The girls were about 
the same age. They were playing together one 
day in the sitting room. Mrs. Porter, busy with 
her sewing, enjoying at the same time the music of 
the children’s voices, heard Grace say to Edith, “Shall 
I tell you an earthquake story?” 

“Oh, yes,” said Edith, “that will be nice.” 

“Many, many years ago, most eight I guess, when 
I was in a great big city — I was born’d there, you 
know — it just begun to shuck right up and down, 
shuck right up and down. I fell down and most 
broke my head.” 



38 


Grace Porter; 


“Honest?” 

“Oh, no, that’s just a story.” 

Next Sunday Grace took Edith and John for the 
first time to Sunday-school. Coming home, she said, 
“Mamma, the teacher talked about heaven. Where 
is heaven, mamma?” 

“I don’t know, my child.” 

“Did grandpa go there?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you see him go?” 

“No.” 

“How did he go, mamma; with horses or on the 
cars?” 

“I don’t know, Grace.” 

“I wish I could find out what kind of a place 
heaven is, and how folks get there.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you, daughter. Wait until 
you get big, and then you will know.” 

After a few moments’ pause: “When I get big, 
will I know more than you do, mamma?” 

Silence. 

That night her prayer included all the loved ones 
by name, became expansive until it embraced Jennie, 
Agnes, Edith, all the little homeless boys and girls 
as usual, and ended (that no one might be left out), 
“Lord bless everybody you have a mind to, but be 
sure to look after our family.” 

During Edith’s visit Jim was sent to take Mrs. 
Pauline Porter and the three children to spend the 


A Jewel I*)st and Found. 


39 


day beside one of the most beautiful lakes that add 
a wonderful charm to the scenery of the Badger State. 
It was one of the rarest of all days — a sunny day in 
June. The Andrews girls were invited and rode their 
ponies. As Mr. Porter had prophesied, motherhood 
had been doing its silent, beautiful work, and the 
blessed results appeared in every line of their bright 
faces. They were just as happy as they could be. 
Their cup was running over. Several of the Andrew's 
boys had ridden over in a buggy. Anybody could 
see what a great change had been wrought in them ; 
a sort of polish had been given, if that term may 
be applied to boys as well as boots. Happy the 
youth who has the companionship of a sister! There 
is usually a great lack of courtesy and gentleness in 
the life of one who is sisterless. 

Between rowing and wading in the water, eating 
luncheon and listening to the bobolinks, the delight- 
ful hours were soon ended. The beautiful pages of 
nature’s book led Grace to think of an Author, and 
she said, “Is God everywhere, mamma?” 

“Yes.” 

“Does he see everything?” 

“Yes.” 

“Does he know everything?” 

“Why, yes, why do you ask?” 

“Why, when I disobeyed this morning and stayed 
in the lake longer than you told me, and saw a sad 
look on your face, I wondered if God would know 
that the kiss I gave you meant ‘Forgive’?” 


40 


Grace Porter; 


“Oh, you dear child ! So you would get back into 
your mother’s heart by the way of theology. I 
wonder if there are any pathways of thought untrod- 
den by the feet of children!” 

The homeward journey led them through the vil- 
lage, and a stop was made at the post-office. Mrs. 
Porter wanted a stamped envelope, and said, “Grace, 
you go in and get it.” 

“Mamma, I never went anywhere,” said four-year- 
old John. “Please let me go.” 

“All right, my son, here are three cents. Get me 
a stamped envelope,” 

It is a day of great responsibility when a boy goes 
on his first errand — makes his first purchase. With 
a self-conscious step he hurried as fast as his little 
legs would carry him. The postmaster saw him com- 
ing, and looking down, kindly, said, “Well, my little 
man, what do you want?” 

“Please, sir, my mamma sent me to get three cents’ 
worth of stamped antellope.” 

The man caught his meaning, and John had estab- 
lished a business reputation. Ever after he will be 
his mother’s right hand man. Farther down the 
street John caught sight of a goat. “Oh !” said the 
delighted child, just see that little cow with the long- 
whiskers.” Everybody laughed, of course. Then 
Jim was reminded of a story. “Shure, that billy goat 
is afther makin’ me remimber a story of a man as 
had a bye phat was hard to manage. A man asked 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 41 

him if he knew of any raisin why the bye was so 
headstrong. ‘Be jabers,’ said he, ‘I think it is because 
the little fellow was raised on goat’s milk.’ ” The 
children were so tired, they were sent to bed before 
sundown. A few minutes later Mr. Porter reached 
home from a journey. He and his wife sat talking- 
two rooms away, with all the doors open between. 
They supposed little John was asleep, but he heard 
and knew his father’s voice. They were both sur- 
prised to hear him say, slowly and swfcetly, “I’m dlad 
my papa’s home.” The heart of the child had spoken 
to the heart of the father, and he will hear that voice 
as long as he lives. Thus ended a day that will 
always be fragrant in the memory of the Porter 
family. 



i 




THE PORTER FARM HOUSE. 






CHAPTER VII. 

A Sunset Summer School. 


The haunts of happiness are varied , hut I have more 
often found her among little children , home firesides and 
country houses than anywhere else . — Sydney Smith. 



E ought to say now, as we had 
omitted it before, that Mr. and 
Mrs. David Porter were people 
of a good deal of intellectual cul- 
ture. Mr. Porter had taken spe- 
cial studies, for two years, at the 
State University, after completing his full course at 
the High school. He had also mapped out and com- 
pleted the reading of courses of literature, especially 
in history and sociology. He kept close watch of 
current events, and had a sort of intuition in reading 
the minds and motives of men. Above everything 
else, he was an optimist, and was willing to 
work and give for the promotion of every noble 
cause. He lived for others almost entirely, and 
so, it goes without saying, he was very happy. 
Mrs. Porter was a graduate of the Conservatory 
of Music of Ripon College. She had received 
a thorough training in this beautiful art. Having 
a piano in her own home, she gave a little time 


42 


Grace Porter; 


every day, so that her hands might not forget their 
skill. She had a new motive now, as she had discov- 
ered that Grace possesses musical powers of a high 
order. Mrs. Porter was gifted also as an imperson- 
ator, and sometimes, at the solicitation of friends, 
would render some gem of poetry in a very charming 
way. In brief, she was a good representative of a 
class who form the very basis of the highest civiliza- 
tion — an intelligent, noble, cultured, Christian 
woman. 

They lived in a fine rural home, overshadowed 
with graceful elms, and near by a ripling brook that 
curved here and there in a wonderful way, surpassing 
in its grace even “Hogarth’s line of Beauty.” Within 
a few years — on account of the romantic scenery and 
the restfulness of these roomy homes, through whose 
open windows the zephyrs of night gently wafted 
the scent of the new-mown hay, blended with the 
aroma of the wild flowers — many people came hither 
from the cities for their summer vacation. A few 
years of life will reveal to anyone that the good things 
are not all in one place. It is a good thing for the 
dwellers on the farms to visit their friends in the 
city. It reveals a new world. It broadens and beau- 
tifies their lives. But methinks the greater blessing 
comes to the denizens of congested cities, when they 
escape from the burning pavement and reach God’s 
green fields. Children especially should come into 
close touch with nature. There is weakness in the 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


43 


character of the youth who never climbs a tree nor 
wades in a brook. Physical, mental and moral health 
require kite-flying and many a chase after the butter- 
fly. The more reciprocity between city and country, 
the better for all the people. To get as much mutual 
benefit as possible from the presence of the city visi- 
tors, David Porter started what he laughingly called 
a Summer School of Sociology. He wanted to get 
all the light he could on the problem of homeless 
children. These twilight meetings were held on the 
broad veranda of the Porter farm-house, from seven 
to eight o’clock, two evenings each week, during the 
month of July, 1883. Some twenty friends from 
various cities gathered after their six o’clock tea, and 
found restful spots not far apart in hammocks, 
lounges and easy chairs. Everything was informal. 
After the introductions were over, Mr. Porter said: 

“Ladies and Gentlemen — Grace, who is sitting on 
my knee, and Master John over there in his mothers 
lap, are our adopted children. That is no secret. We 
feel sure it is best for us to teach them this truth in 
a loving way, rather than have them shocked by hav- 
ing someone outside of the family tell them, as they 
will, in anger. I have heard of children whose hearts 
were almost broken in this way. We have learned to 
love our children very fondly, and our hearts, as a 
result, go out in tender sympathy toward every home- 
less child. I am anxious to learn the best way to 
train them for noble citizenship. Of one thing I 


44 


Grace Porter; 


am firmly convinced already. Any plan that is 
unnatural is injurious. But I want you to do the 
talking. Tell us something, please, that you have 
heard or read; or, better still, something you have 
seen. This lady by my side is the best of mothers. 
‘Her son arises up to call her blessed.’ Mother, we 
wait for you.” 

“Neighbors — I have given my life to training a 
large family for God and my country. I have not 
lived in vain, and my life, especially since these little 
people came, has been a daily rapture, and God gives 
me ‘songs in the night.’ Instead of telling you of the 
nest, of which I was the mother-bird, years and years 
ago, let me repeat a story my niece, who was matron 
of an Orphan Home, told me a few weeks ago. She 
said: ‘There were usually about a dozen children, 
boys and girls, in our building. I wanted, oh so much, 
to be a mother to every one of them, but I found I 
could not do it. They asked for bread, and I only 
seemed to have a stone to give them. My heart is 
loving enough, but as our emotions are not under 
control of our will, I could not love like a mother. 
The cottage seems to melt the heart, but the great 
building congeals it. I was completely disappointed. 
I tried and tried again, and I finally had to say to 
myself, I am only a matron ; I can never be a mother 
here. Her love is individual; it flows out to separate 
persons; but here I am expected to love a “miscel- 
laneous crowd.” The fault is not in me, but in these 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


45 


conditions. They are abnormal, and I am powerless. 
But what pained me most,’ continued my niece, ‘was 
what I saw of the Management. About half a dozen 
excellent ladies had it in charge. They rarely ever 
came into the building. They did not know the 
children by sight — hardly knew their names. They 
never put their arms about them, or looked down 
into their faces, or gave them the benediction of a 
smile. If only the little eyes could have looked into 
sympathetic faces and have seen some tear drops in 
their eyes, they would have read the meaning, and it 
would have been to them like a stray sunbeam break- 
ing through the clouds; it would have been a crumb 
to their hungry hearts. But no, they rarely ever 
came near us. Once in a while one or two of them 
(they were wealthy), would stop their carriage in 
front, call me out, give some directions, and drive 
away. I was their proxy . One day an agent of a 
home-finding society, incorporated and entirely re- 
sponsible, offered to take charge of all the children 
and place them very carefully in excellent families, 
and keep a faithful oversight of them afterward, and 
they would make no charge for this service. What 
was their answer? It was costing the community 
fifteen hundred dollars ($1,500.00) a year to support 
the Orphanage. The Managers would not even con- 
sider the proposition.’ ” 

“Grandma,” said one of the gentlemen, “pardon 


46 Grace Porter; 

the interruption, but can you tell us the reason for 
such a refusal?” 

“My niece found out after a while. They expect 
to get a large bequest from a will.” 

“Am I then,” said the same gentleman, “to infer 
that these orphans are kept with a Matron and refused 
mothers, to have an Orphanage and to get money? 
It seems to me that is putting the cart before the 
horse.” 

“You must draw your own conclusions. I am 
only relating facts,” said grandma. 

“Is your niece there still?” 

“Oh, no, she saw that hungry look in the little 
faces day after day; a look she was powerless to driye 
away and realized she was ministering tp the pride of 
Charity; that she was merely a substitute for others, 
who gave only their money to a service to which 
they ought to have given themselves. She resigned, 
saying to her friends she would never again have any- 
thing to do with a charitable ‘fad.’ ” 

“Sensible cousin,” said Mr. Porter. “Thank you, 
mother.” 

“That is about my idea of the best way to conduct 
our Summer School. Who will be the next to speak? 
We would be pleased to have some friend give us 
something from his own experience.” 

After a little pause of courtesy, Mrs. Hamilton, a 
lady from a neighboring village, said, “We took our 
only child, Helen, from an institution in the East. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


47 


My heart had for years yearned for the companion- 
ship of a little girl. One morning I saw this little 
motherless lamb, when paying a visit to an Orphan- 
age. I was looking for a child to adopt. I thought 
and prayed over it during the day. About dark I 
went to bring her away. She was asleep. The Matron 
wakened her. She was asked if she would like to go 
with the lady she saw in the morning and have her 
for her mamma. 'Oh, yes/ said she, bounding up as a 
startled rabbit runs into the thicket. She could 
hardly wait to be dressed, she was so eager to be 
gone. That night I carried her away in my arms. 
(She was four years old then.) When I took her in 
m)' lap to rock her asleep I noticed she shut her eyes 
as close as she possibly could. ‘Why do you do that, 
Helen/ I said. ‘They made me do it/ said the child. 
‘If I didn't, they put their fingers on my eyes.' She 
soon unlearned this, and only closed the little win- 
dows of the soul when the lids became so heavy the 
props gave 'way. Several times after we came home," 
continued Mrs. Hamilton, “I saw Helen sit down in 
her little chair, when something made her sad, and 
though the tear-drops rolled down her cheeks, I 
never heard so much as a sigh. The sobs that ought 
to have been on her lips were imprisoned in her little 
heart. She had been taught this also in the Orphan- 
age. 

Mr. Porter, glancing around the circle, noticed 
that every eye was bedewed with tears. 


48 


Grace Porter; 


Mrs. Hamilton went on, after a moment of sup-' 
pressed emotion, as some one has said, “with tears- 
in her voice” : “Soon after this I was prostrated with 
erysipelas. It covered my face and neck. Helen 
would come and stand beside my bed. Her hunger 
for mother-love was written in every line of her face. 
I could not give her kisses, my usual token of love, 
so she kissed my fingers, and in her eagerness she 
even kissed my feet.” 

“ ‘As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so 
panteth the soul after God,’ and a child for a mother,” 
said Mr. Porter. 

For the sake of variety, other kindred topics were 
briefly discussed, of which no record was made. Mr. 
Porter then said : “This is Friday ; suppose we adjourn 
until next Tuesday. Is there any further business?” 

“I would request Mrs. Pauline Porter to sing for 
us before we go,” said Mrs. Hamilton. 

A general clapping of hands expressed a unani- 
mous wish, and Mrs. Porter graciously assented. 

“Please come into our family room, then,” she 
quietly replied. 

Lightly touching the keys, she thrilled every heart 
by her soulful rendition of this song: 

“There’s never a rose in all the world 
But makes some green spray sweeter ; 

There’s never a wind in all the sky 
But makes some bird wing fleeter; 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


49 


There’s never a star but brings to Heaven 
Some silver radiance tender ; 

And never a rosy cloud but helps 
To crown the sunset splendor; 

No robin but may thrill some heart 
His dawn-light gladness voicing; 

God gives us all some small, sweet way 
To set the world rejoicing.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


The Little Red School-House. 



We had a school house at a small distance. Our teachers 
were persons whom we loved and honored. I remember them 
all with great affection. — Dr. Cyrus Hamlin. 

^ XCUSE me a few minutes,” said 
Mrs. Pauline Porter. “It is bed- 
time for our children.” Most of 
the friends took an informal 
leave, and when she returned, 
only the two Mrs. Andrews and 
their guests — two gentlemen and their wives — 
remained. 

“I almost envy you the possession of those two 
beautiful children,” said one of the ladies. 

“If you care to hear them, and will be seated, I 
will tell you some of their strange speeches,” said 
Mrs. Porter. 

“The oddities of children are to me a constant 
surprise. They fill me with laughter, which does me 
good like an elixir. I feel younger, and my husband 
declares I look younger, than six years ago. It is 
certainly a blessing for a childless family to receive 
some of these little people into their homes. But I 
am wandering away from my subject. It must have 
been last March that Grace, having grown tired of 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


51 


the long winter, put her longing into her prayer one 
night. Let me explain that she and John like to play 
in the summer along the brook, and she always calls 
the brook-side the beach. After remembering us all 
and Jennie and Agnes, she added, ‘O Lord, please 
send us summer. I am so tired of the winter, and I 
so love the beautiful flowers, and to see the lambs 
a-wanderin’ on the beach.’ I was just a little shocked 
one day at what seemed almost irreverent. ‘Mamma,’ 
she asked, ‘does God know everything?’ ‘Yes, my 
child.’ ‘Does he see everybody?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Does he 
see us all the time — does he see me just now?’ ‘Yes, 
Grace.’ ‘Oh dear! I wish he wouldn’t stand and 
watch me every minute.’ ” 

“She is human, sure enough,” said one of the gen- 
tlemen. “That was the feeling of Adam and Eve in 
the garden, and of hundreds of millions of people 
ever since. She has a wise head on those little 
shoulders.” 

“And little John,” said Mrs. Porter, “is almost as 
waggish as his sister. I took him to the dentist a 
while ago — thought he would not hurt him as much 
as I would with a string. The dentist, looking at 
some of the other teeth, said, ‘Do any of these ache?’ 
‘Yes, lots of them,’ said John, ‘as many as four of 
them, I guess ; two he ones and two she ones.’ Truly, 
the classification made by a ‘tootsie’ is more than I 
can comprehend. Only a few days ago a tramp 
called. John was the only one in the kitchen just 


52 


Grace Porter; 


then. He opened the dooi. This is the way he told 
the story to me when I came home: ‘There-was-a- 
man-came-to-our-door- (he spoke very slowly) and- 
he-asked-me-if-I-would-help-him-on-his-way. And-I- 
couldn’t-reach.’ Bless his little curly head, he meant 
he could n’t reach the bread and butter.” 

“Here is food for reflection — a hook on which to 
hang a moral,” said the gentleman who had spoken 
before. How many of us who ‘can reach’ are so 
absorbed in our business, we do not take time to 
think over the wants of our fellow-men; and, as the 
result of thoughtlessness, we rarely ‘help anybody on 
his way.’ Then, on the other hand, how many there 
are who would gladly ‘help somebody on his way,’ 
but they ‘can’t reach’; they have neither money nor 
influence. What a blessed thing it is to see willing- 
ness and ability go hand in hand. I hope the words 
of the child will make me a broader and better man.” 

“Count me in the same list,” said the other gen- 
tleman. “John’s sermon (as I would call it) is the 
best I have ever heard.” 

“I have just one story more to tell about my little 
son,” said Mrs. Porter. “The first Sunday I took 
him to church he was quite in the dark about what 
liberties belonged to a little boy. We were barely 
seated when his whispered questions began, ‘Mamma, 
can I talk?’ ‘No, you must keep still.’ ‘May I sing, 
mamma?’ ‘Of course not, John.’ ‘Mamma, I must 
do something. Let me whistle “Marching Through 
Georgia” just a little.’ ” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


53 


“How are Jennie and Agnes doing in their school 
work?” said Mrs. Porter. 

“First rate,” said Mrs. Thos. Andrews. “We have 
talked it all over. The cousins are so much attached 
to each other, we cannot bear to separate them, so 
they will go together to High-school next year. 
When they graduate there we will send them to Law- 
rence University at Appleton. As we are Metho- 
dists, we prefer to send them to our own college.” 

“Grace,” said Mrs. Porter, “has just begun to go 
to the little red school-house.’ John will go next 
year. We fully believe in it. It lies at the base of 
our civilization. Reading the history of our country 
inside, and seeing the starry flag floating outside — it 
stimulates them to do their best, and starts then; 
upward toward patriotic citizenship. We should all 
stand by the 'little red school-house’ ; it fuses together 
the different nationalities, teaches the highest ideals, 
instills true Americanism, prepares the boys for the 
ballot and the girls for regal womanhood.” 

“Amen,” said several, in concert. 

A few moments later one of the gentlemen said, 
“Friends, it is almost nine o’clock. I am laying up 
sleep in advance for next winter’s use. I like to get 
ten hours at least. Pleasant dreams to you, Mrs. 
Porter.” 

“Good-nights” were said, and soon the angel of 
peace waved the wand of slumber over every dweller 
in all the beautiful valley. 


54 


Grace Porter; 


Postcript : 

The author is himself the product of a District 
School, near the Catskill mountains, New York. The 
school-house was little, and it was red. How his 
heart leaps up at every remembrance of it. How dis- 
tinct the memory of the day he learned the multipli- 
cation table, standing with others in a row, with our 
toes touching a certain crack in the floor. He can, 
to this day, repeat the table backwards. He didn’t 
believe in compulsory education then ; he does now. 
Afterwards, when he was in the Academy preparing 
for college, a friend (also a graduate of the District 
School) used to amuse us boys by standing up and 
spelling a long list of words and giving their defini- 
tions, in exactly the same order they were given in 
the old Sander’s Spelling Book. He learned them 
once when he was “kept in.” For the sake of the 
State, to obtain the best citizenship, let us cling to 
our Public School System. Let us honor the “little 
red school-house” and keep our “bonnie flag” waving 
above it. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Twin Boys Find a Home and Loving Hearts. 

There are lonely hearts to cherish 
As the days are going hye. 

— Hymn Book. 



EFORE the next meeting of Por- 
ter’s Summer School a great 
event happened in the neighbor- 
hood. Everybody was talking 
about it. A month before this 
Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Campbell, 


who had two daughters, but no sons, had taken twin 
boys into their family. These boys, Charles and Fred 
Furlong, were nine years old, and looked so much 
alike that their father did not know them apart. 
Their mother was dead and their father was a cripple. 
By his request a Mr. Edwards, who was very fond of 
children, and was giving his life to the beautiful work 
of placing the dependents in good family homes, had 
taken the boys under his care. 

Mr. Campbell said, “I want to adopt one of the 
boys. Let me take them both to my home, and 
within a month we will make our choice. Meantime, 
perhaps, you can find a home for the other.” 

Mr. Edwards wanted to keep them together. He 
had a hope that the Campbells would become 


56 


Grace Porter; 


attached to the boys and keep them both. So Charles 
and Fred went out to the farm-house. Ten days 
later Mr. Campbell sent for Mr. Edwards. With 
sorrow he told him that Fred had stolen the purse 
of one of his daughters, and a ring belonging to the 
other. Mr. Edwards, who understands boys thor- 
oughly, said, “Let me see the boy alone.” He talked 
kindly to the motherless child. He won his heart at 
once. It was very fortunate, at this crisis of Fred's 
life, that he fell into the hands of a teacher instead 
of an officer of the law. As Mr. Edwards anticipated, 
Fred had no clear idea of the rights of others — had 
never been taught that it was wrong to steal. Still 
worse, he had been taught to pilfer by older boys in 
the town. His moral nature was undeveloped 
because of the unfavorable conditions that had sur- 
rounded his life. 

When Fred saw the wrong, he restored what he 
had taken, and readily promised not to repeat the 
act. That boy is redeemed and will be a good citizen. 
Oh that all men would act in a rational way toward 
a child who takes a false step ! We would have many 
less convicts in prison-cells. 

As might have been anticipated, the Campbells 
decided to keep Charles. They returned Fred to Mr. 
Edwards. This was on a Friday afternoon. Mr. 
Edwards told them he would take the boy to another 
family on an early train next morning. Their hearts 
were touched, when they reached home, by the sad 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


57 


look on the face of Charles. There were tears in his 
eyes. Their daughters had been weeping. Their 
home seemed to have lost half its brightness since 
the morning. It was a sad-faced group that gathered 
around the supper table. Nobody seemed to have an 
appetite. The silence was oppressive. There were 
no games and no music that night. By and by, with- 
out the usual good-night kisses, the children — Fern, 
Winnie and Charles — slipped away silently, one by 
one, to their rooms. It was the saddest night the 
children had ever known. Will they ever be happy 
again? An engine needs a safety valve, and so do 
men and women. They were no sooner left alone 
than Mr. Campbell said, “Elizabeth, this is all your 
fault!” 

“William, you know you are to blame yourself. 
You were bound to take the child away.” 

“I say you told me to do it.” 

“Oh, William, what makes you talk that way! 
You know if it had not been for me you would have 
sent him away when Mr. Edwards was here.” 

And thus reproaches were bandied back and forth. 
It would serve no useful purpose to repeat them all. 
Do not be discouraged, gentle reader! Maybe you 
have had a similar experience. If so, you know 
these are hopeful symptoms. You do not need to 
be a psychologist to know that as the tempest is fol- 
lowed by the rainstorm, so anger with true-hearted 
people usually ends in tears. 


58 


Grace Porter; 


In an angry mood, at a late hour, they retired. 
No sleep, however, came to either husband or wife. 
Each tossed about in a restless way. When the old 
corner clock was striking three, Mr. Campbell 
jumped out of bed and began to dress. 

“What are you going to do now, William?” 

“I am going after Fred.” 

“Praise the Lord! I am going with you,” said 
his wife. 

“You dear woman !” 

“You are the best man in the world!” 

The clouds have rolled away. The gentle rain- 
drops are falling. Peace has come again. When the 
lamp is lighted, reddened eyes reveal the night of 
anguish each has passed. “Weeping may endure for 
a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” 

“Elizabeth, if you will dress, write a note for the 
children and leave it on the table, telling them we 
will be back for breakfast, I will harness the team 
and be ready in twenty minutes.” 

“Yes, we had better hurry, for I think Mr. 
Edwards goes before six o’clock, and, oh dear! if he 
takes Fred away we will never get him, and then all 
our hearts will break.” And thus they stole away 
almost as silently as the Bedouin folds his tent. 

“The dear little fellow,” said Elizabeth ; “I was n't 
patient enough with him. But now I will pour my 
mother-love into his heart, and it will drown out all 
the naughty thoughts.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


59 


“That’s the way, Elizabeth. Start another deluge. 
I know you will win. I feel sure Fred will never 
steal again.” 

The horses, urged on by eager people, never made 
the five-mile journey faster. All was quiet at Mr. 
Edwards’ house, w r hen, about half-past four o’clock, 
every sleeper was awakened by the repeated clanging 
of the door-bell. In a few moments a voice from an 
open window calls out, “Who’s there?” It was Mr. 
Edwards speaking. 

“It’s us. We’ve come for Fred.” They both spoke 
at once — William from the porch and Elizabeth from 
the carriage. ^ 

“Good. I am glad the dear boys will not be sepa- 
rated. I will come down and let you in as soon as 
I can.” 

Oh, what a home-coming that was ! The children 
had read their mother’s note. Every few moments a 
childish face was at the window and eager eyes look- 
ing down the road. A team comes in sight. “It’s 
papa and mamma!” they shout. Then there was a 
foot-race. They stopped the horses. They demanded 
that Fred should be given up to them. Their par- 
ents capitulated, and the four happy children, arm 
in arm, walked back to their home. Who was watch- 
ing this joyous scene? “Their angels do always 
behold the face of my Father, which is in Heaven.” 
Guided by a father’s counsel and shielded by a 
mother’s love, Fred is safe. He will never steal again. 


60 


Grace Porter; 


At nightfall, the wife said, “This has been the hap- 
piest day of my life/’ 

“And no wonder,” replied the husband, “for, ‘Inas- 
much as ye have done it unto one of the least of 
these, ye have done it unto the Lord.’ ” 

The above story was told by David Porter at the 
Summer School on the next Tuesday. “The Camp- 
bells,” said he, “live four miles up the valley. They 
are very worthy people, and I feel sure the boys will 
grow up to be noble men. I am going to ask you, 
friends, first of all, to draw a moral from this story.” 

Nearly all the score of people on the veranda 
responded to Mr. Porter’s invitation. We have space 
for only a few of these replies. 

“I believe that boy will be all right now,” said 
Thomas Andrews. “A pure home will, in all ordi- 
nary cases, overcome what people call heredity. It 
will greatly modify and restrain in every case. 
Besides, there is little or no incurable heredity in a 
State only fifty years old, and the population so 
widely scattered. If there be any unconquerable 
heredity among children, it will be found in the 
crowded alleys of the oldest cities, like New York and 
London.” 

“I am glad Fred is in a clean, careful family,” 
said Mr. Judson, a merchant, who was also a phi- 
lanthropist, from Chicago. “If he had been sent for 
this theft to some Reform School (falsely so called), 
he would probably have been a burden to the State 


A Jewel Ia>st and Found. 


61 


the rest of his life. When will people learn that boys 
(and men, too) are for all the world just like apples? 
If you keep them apart, nearly all of them will remain 
good; if you throw them in a pile, they will all rot 
together. It is an outrage to send children to a penal 
Institution (as is done at the Bridewell, in Chicago) 
who have just graduated from their crib. Oh for a 
baptism of common sense! I hope the Twentieth 
Century will have a rational head and a Christly 
heart.” 

“I think,” said Mrs. Hamilton, “we all have a 
duty in this matter. I have taken one who needed 
a mother. I should n’t wonder, if this school con- 
tinues very long, if there may not be room in my 
heart for another — perhaps some boy who has never 
been taught what is right.” 

“I wish,” said Grandma Porter, “I was young 
again. I believe I would go about the city, like a 
lady in Minneapolis, and find, as she did, some poor 
sickly baby that no one else would take, and fold it 
in my bosom; or, if God gave me strength, keep on 
taking little fellows, of whom others had no hope, 
until my house was full to overflowing, like a doctor 
I have heard about in Michigan, who is said to have 
adopted twenty-four orphans.” 

“I see Jim Donahue is present,” said Mr. Porter. 
“We are glad to have you here, Jim. What moral 
would you draw from the story about William and 
Elizabeth Campbell?” 


62 


Grace Porter; 


“Why, Misther Porter, it seems to me loike a case 
of conscience. They were angry at each other, jist 
loike Adam and Eve, for the raisin they knew they 
had done wrong. That was phwat kipt them wakin 
and wapein’ till mornin’. The little bye wanted to 
stay in their hearts, and they pushed him out. Little 
wunder they felt condimned. A little story comes to. 
me mimory. A man had played some trick on a 
fillow-man. In some mane way he overrached him 
jist loike as he had stolen his money. A sinse of 
wrong came over him, and he said, ‘Oi’ll be afthur 
writin’ him a letter and sind a check/ ‘Dear Sir/ said 
he, ‘Oi’ve wronged ye out of a lot of money. Me 
conscience gnaws and I sind some of it back. When 
it gnaws agin I will sind some more.’ If it’s a moral 
yez are askin’ afthur, Misther Porter, Oi’d say, when 
conscience gnaws thim Campbells agin they should 
take more twins.” 

Grace, sitting on her father’s knee, glanced into 
his face with a troubled look and said, in pleading 
accents but little above a whisper, “You took me 
because you wanted me, didn’t you, and you’ll keep 
me, won’t you, papa?” A kiss was her answer. It 
satisfied her and drove the cloudlet from her face, 
which presently wore a look of perfect peace. 


CHAPTER X. 


1 he Harmful Repression of “Institutionalism.” 


We are born to be grouped together , and brooded by love , 
and reared day by day in that first of churches, the family. 

— Henry Ward Beecher. 



EVERAL successive meetings, fol- 
lowing this one, were devoted to 
the discussion of various Socio- 
logical problems, such as the best 
care of the Insane, the conflict 
between Capital and Labor, and 


the wisest government of our great cities. Again 
they took up the matter of homeless children. Mr. 
Porter, who by their unanimous wish always pre- 
sided, said, by way of introduction, “Friends, you will 
remember the story my mother told, about a month 
ago. She wants me to explain that she did not mean 
to denounce all Institutions for children. She recog- 
nizes that some of them have a sphere of usefulness. 
They are needed to provide for children whose homes 
are broken up, for a time, but will soon be rebuilt, and 
to which some day they will fly back as birds to a 
nest. Institutions are also needed for the feeble- 
minded, the badly crippled, and a few (very few) who 
are terribly criminal. She referred only to Institu- 
tions that keep dependent children, year after year, 


64 


Grace Porter; 


who are bright in mind and sound in body, for the 
evident purpose of having an Institution. Think of it ! 
No longer the Orphanage for the orphan, but rather 
the orphan for the Orphanage. When this is appar- 
ent, and the Management plume themselves on 
account of their goodness, I think my cousin was 
right when she called the Institution of which she 
was once matron a “Charity fad.” How many of 
you agree with me? There was a show of hands, 
and the vote of approval was unanimous. Again, let 
me say that the people who managed the Institution 
where fingers were placed on the eyelids of little 
Helen Hamilton did not mean to be cruel. All the 
same, it resulted in the repression of the child-nature, 
and so was a cruelty. We will now give further con- 
sideration to this element of danger. Miss Jennie 
Andrews, who three years ago fled hither as a bird 
to her mountain, will read for us some directions 
used by a nurse in an Institution, and printed for 
general use in suppressing the cry of babes.” 

Miss Jennie read as follows: “When the babe 
comes into the nurse’s hands, and first begins to cry, 
hold the hand tightly over the mouth so that all 
sound is stifled. Not hearing its own voice, and 
always feeling the discomfort of suffocation when it 
essays to cry, after four or five futile efforts, the child 
will not attempt to cry at all. The nurse pointed to 
the children in her own ward as proof of the efficacy 
of the plan ; all were as mute as marble.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


65 


“How terrible,” said half a dozen at the same time, 
and handkerchiefs were raised to several faces. 

“I will repeat,” said Mr. Judson of Chicago, “a 
story told recently by Dr. B. of New York. Said he : 
I visited an Orphanage, a few weeks ago, where 
there were eighty little boys and girls. I said to the 
Matron, ‘What can you do when all these children 
cry at once?’ My friends, that would be a predica- 
ment, truly. Think of half a dozen nurses trying to 
fold their arms around eighty children — a baker’s 
dozen apiece. ‘But,’ she said, with deep emotion, 
* these children never cry.’ ‘What can you possibly 
mean?’ said the visitor. ‘Dr. B.’, said the Matron, 
‘there is nobody here to cry to.’ Oh, what pathetic 
words. When they fell on my ear,” said Mr. Judson, 
“it seemed as though my ‘head were waters and mine 
eyes a fountain of tears.’ Nobody here to cry to. In 
heaven’s name, give them somebody to cry to\ Give 
them new mothers, and let them weep out their grief 
on their hearts. Matrons generally deplore this 
repression, and if the Management would listen to 
them, most of the Orphanages — all, in fact, except 
the kind Mrs. Porter spoke of as essential — would 
close their doors. Things that are opposite to nature 
are unequal to nature,” continued Mr. Judson. “Then 
consider that this abnormal process forms a life-long 
handicap. They will go out of the big building at 
last without a penny, and poorer even in heart than 
they are in purse. The boy that has a home puts up 


66 


Grace Porter; 


a telephone line as he goes out into the world. 
Whenever he is tempted or heartsick, he can sing 
out, ‘Hello, mother, are you there?’ ‘Yes, my darling 
boy, what can I do for you? Remember, you are 
always in my thoughts.’ Four walls take no interest 
in, have no memory of, the boy who has gone out 
into the battle of life. There is no ‘Hello’ for him.” 

“Have you finished, Mr. Judson?” said the chair- 
man. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Thank you ; there is a world of pathos as well as 
a profound philosophy in what you have said. I am 
reminded,” continued Mr. Porter, “of a visit I made 
myself several years ago, to a Home, as they called it. 
I should explain that we went to a good many places 
looking for children before we adopted Grace and 
John. I was, at one time, waiting alone a few 
moments in the office of an Orphanage. I heard the 
voices of children in an adjoining room. They were 
apparently trying to sing. Why do I say trying? 
Because there was no gladness in it. It was what 
they had to do at that hour. The wheel was going 
’round and the cogs must go along. The song of a 
child should be like the song of a bird — full of ripple 
and gladsomeness. But this had in it more of wail 
than of laughter. I immediately thought of the 
Hebrews in the land of bondage. Their captors said, 
‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion.’ But they said, 
'We cannot do it.’ The conditions made it impos- 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


67 


sible. They were far away from their native hills and 
beautiful vineyards — far away from Jerusalem, ‘their 
chiefest joy’ — and the graves of their fathers. ‘Rather 
let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth/ they 
said. ‘How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a» 
strange land? We will hang our harps on the wil- 
lows.’ These words are as true to nature and as 
soulful as anything in all the realm of literature. 
Many, many an orphan is oppressed by a great build- 
ing and hangs his harp on the willows.” 

Mr. Porter was interrupted at the beginning o£ 
this sentence by deep sobs from Jennie and Agnes. 
They were living their old captive life over again in 
memory. “Thank God,” said Mr. Porter, “these 
noble girls have come to their native land.” 

“Girls, what about your harps?” 

“We have taken them down from the willows 
now,” said Jennie very quietly. 

“Miss Agnes Andrews will read for us a brief out- 
line of ‘Timothy’s Quest/ and that will close the 
meeting to-night.” 

“ ‘Timothy’s Quest,’ by Kate Douglas Wiggin,” 
said Agnes, “is a very fascinating book and clearly 
reveals the longing of the child-heart. Timothy had 
once enjoyed all the comforts of a Home with a cap- 
ital H ; but it was a cosy one with a little ‘h’ he desired 
for himself and his sister Gay. The Matron (where 
he had been some time ago) had tried to do her duty 
to all the children under her care; but it would be an 


68 


Grace Porter; 


inspired human being indeed who could give one 
hundred and fifty motherless or fatherless children 
all the education and care and training they needed, 
to say nothing of the love they missed and craved. 
What wonder, then, that an occasional hungry little 
soul starved for something not provided for by the 
management; say a morning cuddle in father’s bed, 
or a ride on father’s knee — in short, the sweet daily 
jumble of lap-trotting, gentle caressing, endearing 
words, twilight stories, motherly tucks-in-bed, good- 
night kisses, all the dear, simple accompaniments of 
the home with the little ‘h.’ 

“Out of this Home Timothy had been taken by 
Flossie Morrison, to be boarded with his little sister 
Gay. When Mrs. M. died, Timothy overheard some 
women say they would send the children to the 
Orphan’s Home. His little heart rebelled at the 
thought, so he said to himself, ‘When they are asleep 
I will get ready, take Gay, and steal softly out of the 
back door, and run away to the “truly” country, 
where none of these people can ever find us, and 
where I can get a mother for Gay; somebody to 
’dopt her and love her till I grow up a man, and take 
her to live with me.’ He hung his tattered straw hat 
on the bedpost, and knelt beside Gay’s crib with this 
whispered prayer, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, 
please help me to find a mother for Gay, one that she 
can call Mamma, and another one for me, if there’s 
enough, but not unless. Please excuse me for taking 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


69 


away . this Japanese umbrella, which does not exactly 
belong to us, for if I don’t take it she will get freckled, 
and nobody will adopt her. No more at present, as 
I am in a great hurry. Amen.’ ” 

After many trials the brother and sister found a 
family home in the country where side by side they 
spent many happy years. 


CHAPTER XL 


Let the Little Sparrows Fly. 

No orphan child , sound ,of mind and body, should be 
deprived of a chance in life in the best place on earth for a 
child — a good family home. — Anon. 

Y invitation, Mr. Porter prepared a 
paper, which he read at the last 
meeting for the summer. His 
plan was to present a thesis that 
would offer a solution of the dan- 
gers of repression caused by “in- 
stitutionalism.” Said he: “I want to make a solemn 
protest against the artificial, coupled with an appeal 
for the natural, in the culture of children. Children 
in families receive a normal training. The result is 
health and happiness. I make no plea for the ‘soli- 
tary who are set in families.’ Motherhood will develop 
this class, with relatively few exceptions, into good 
and useful lives. But what shall be done for a large 
class of dependent children who are not crippled or 
criminal, whom Heaven has endowed with a strong 
body and an active brain? If any of you, my friends, 
had a hundred birds, whose instincts crave the open 
fields and leafy woods, you would feel it was wrong 
to put them all in one big dry-goods box. You would 
say, ‘No, let them fly away to their separate nests.’ 
But if we want nests and leafy woods for these bird- 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


71 


lings, in the name of common sense why not nests 
for children? How long will civilized communities 
consent to keep children caged in these enormous 
boxes? While writing the above sentences last 
night,” continued David Porter, “my ears listened to 
the music of children’s voices, who were saying good 7 
night to their adopting mother. To one of them, a 
moment ago, I heard her call out, ‘Good-night, 
sweetheart.’ While I am writing in the parlor, and 
her voice is borne in from the sitting room, I hear 
her in gentle tones telling the boy some little story. 
And now, a few minutes later, as it is still, I suppose 
mother and child have gone to his sleeping room. 
(In the morning she tells me that the little fellow was 
so tired last night, he said, ‘Mamma, I’m too sleepy 
to say my prayer; won’t you please tell the Lord?’) 

“A few days* ago,” Mr. Porter continued, “I saw 
a gentleman holding an English sparrow in his hand. 
It looked cramped and fettered. A few moments 
later he went out of the door. Something had touched 
his heart. I met him as he returned. His hand was 
empty. ‘The little thing,’ said he, ‘seemed happy to 
get away.’ Oh, ye men and women who have little 
human sparrows in your hands, I implore you to open 
your fingers. The little ones will be crushed if you 
keep them there. Take them outside and let them 
fly. Your heart, like that of the gentleman, will sing 
for joy when you mark the happiness their liberty 
evokes. 


72 


Grace Porter; 


“Oh, I wish I could get the ear of everybody who 
has power over them. I would plead with my heart 
in my voice, saying, My brother, my sister, open your 
hand and let the little sparrows fly. Nests are wait- 
ing; let them fly. It is my idea that the primary 
object in training children should be to make them 
noble citizens. These are the jewels of a nation. 
Some of you differ from me. You have a right to 
differ. You think your children, first of all, should 
be led by your teaching into the bosom of your 
church. Suppose we grant this proposition. You 
want your membership to be intelligent, loyal, useful. 
How can this be attained? Please look over the list 
of those who stand as the leaders in your church. 
Whence did they come? They were nurtured in 
families, not in Orphanages. They had Mothers, not 
Matrons. Please give all children now what you had 
when you were children. Does your mother’s sweet 
face rise up before you? Does memory bring back 
even now some of her tender words? In her name I 
ask you to give these little orphans something better 
to remember than four cold, blank walls. How can 
you rob them of the things that were best for you — 
the things that made you brave and strong? Come 
now, and let us reason together. 

“A lady told me lately that she once saw some 
little boys of 4 years in an Orphanage, kneeling on a 
hard floor, repeating the Creed of a church. What 
will be the logical result, considering that this child 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


73 


has a human nature? He can repeat some words, 
but that does not build character. Such children may 
learn religiousness — they will not learn righteousness. 
When they begin to reason they are likely to remem- 
ber these things with a shudder; and it would not 
be very strange if they hate the church that makes 
their childhood so dark and desolate. Please do not 
march the little orphans about the streets in lines 
like soldiers ; and then, as if going into a prison, take 
them out of sight of the fields and the flocks. 
Remember your own childhood — it was brighter than 
this. You can never raise men and women who will 
give your church regal service in any such way. ‘Tall 
sun-crowned men’ are the evolution of the godly 
family. These children, who are crushed like a spar- 
row in the hand, are likely, later on, to do one of 
two things — either apostatize from your church, or, 
staying in it, will be weaklings and worthless. I do 
not ask you to place the homeless children of your 
church in the families of my church. I would not 
have it that way if I could. Place them carefully in 
the very best families of your own church. This can 
be done, and well done, and will cost you ten times 
as little as your Orphanage. I pray you, give up 
man’s way and follow God’s plan instead. Open your 
hand and let these little sparrows fly away. I once 
saw Vinnie Ream, the sculptress, with artistic hand, 
molding the clay model for a statue of Admiral Far- 
ragut. Her face was a study. She was completely 


74 


Grace Porter; 


absorbed in her work. She was oblivious of time. 
She cared not who was watching. Her deft fingers 
touched the heroic head here and there — raising a 
cheek, depressing the chin, lifting the eyelids a little, 
dropping the corners of the mouth, stepping back to 
look at it again and again, passing to the side to 
catch the profile — her face glowing with pleasure, her 
very soul thrown into her art. My friends, it was a 
sight never to be forgotten. Some of us have likely 
seen a sportsman preparing for a deer hunt. He 
melts the lead and pours it into the moulds. The 
bullets are all alike. This work is mechanical. He 
does not put himself into it. His eye does not flash 
with genius. There is no look of delight on his face. 
The mould is made ready for his hand. It is a work 
of routine. It could be done by anyone else as well. 
There is no room for skill. Contrast this sportsman 
and that sculptress. His work represents the spirit 
and life of ‘institutionalism.’ Like bullets, the chil- 
dren all come out of the same mould. The plan is to 
make them all alike. Individuality is lost. Put the 
little people rather into the hands of a sculptress. She 
has skill. She has love. She has genius. She has 
patience. Can we find them? Yes, the prototype of 
Vinnie Ream is found in millions of homes. There 
are two of them in my family. One of them fashioned 
me with loving hand. She is sitting yonder now. 
The other is busy, day by day, touching skillfully the 
mind, the conscience, the heart of these little immor- 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


75 


tals, Grace and John; developing their lives into a 
‘thing of beauty which shall be a joy forever.’ If I 
have the ear of those who have charge of the big 
buildings, hear the cry of a father’s heart for the 
fatherless. Please do not put these boys and girls 
into moulds like bullets ; but put each in a studio, and 
call some Vinnie Ream. Under her hand they will 
become strong and virtuous and beautiful. For the 
sake of your church as well as your children, open 
these doors and let them out. Will they go out? 
Will a bird fly to its nest? Will a deer plunge into _a 
lake? Will a lamb run to its mother? Only try them 
and see. A friend of mine once asked some little 
boy^ in a cottage of a great Institution how many of 
them would like to go out into families. Instantly 
thirty-five hands were raised. How many boys were 
there? Thirty-five. Had there been more boys 
there would have been more upraised hands. Who 
taueht them? You say instinct. Very well, that is 
another name for God. 

“It is a matter of police record,” continued David 
Porter, “that an Orphanage near one of our large 
cities was set on fire by some of the boys within its 
walls. Several of them talked it over and laid their 
plans. They were to start the fire, and then, in the 
confusion, run away. The flames burst forth. They 
started, but were caught. They were taken to the 
Court. They were asked to explain this singular act. 
Confessing, they said in substance, ‘We were very 


76 


Grace Porter; 


unhappy and wanted to get away. It seemed to be* 
our only chance.’ The little sparrows felt that the 
strong hand was crushing them, and they wanted 
to fly away. They felt themselves to be in a des- 
perate plight, and so they resorted to a desperate 
remedy. The reporters wrote it up in the newspa- 
pers. The doors of many, many homes were opened, 
and they never went back. My friends, you who 
manage these Homes (so called) for little children, 
pray listen to this philosophy of human life. You 
know it as well as I do. You are simply ignoring it. 
From whence come these homeless children? 
Whence marches this army whose wan faces awake 
our pity? They come chiefly from the lanes and 
alleys of our great cities. What is the matter? Too 
much congestion. Saloons on every corner! Dirt 
piled in heaps on every side ! Bad smells and revolt- 
ing pictures ! The wolf of hunger always at the door! 
Mothers made brutal by the blows of drunken 
fathers! Their ears hourly Shocked by profanity! 
The very air is foul and fetid. The morning is an 
awakening to new forms of suffering; the sunset 
comes as the beginning of a horrible nightmare that 
lasts until daylight, which only brings a new day of 
cursing and bitterness. The children from their birth 
are crowded by day, and lie down on a bundle of rags 
at night. Their wee hearts are starved even worse 
than their little mouths. One day the undertaker’s 
cart drives into the alley. It contains only a plain 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


77 


pine coffin. This is borne up into the attic or down 
into the cellar. The pale form of the mother, who 
has been crowded out of life, is laid in it. There are 
no songs of hope and no sermon of consolation. The 
little procession has passed out of sight. There were 
never any smiles or kisses in the alley. Now there 
are only mouldy crusts on the bare shelves. The fire 
has gone out. Some one comes, and with the kindest 
of intentions takes these little sparrows, and thinking 
it the best thing to be done, carries them away and 
places them in the strong right hand of what people 
call a Home. You can easily see that this is a terrible 
mistake. They were crowded in the alley — now the 
congestion is greater than ever before. What is the 
true remedy? Open that hand. Disperse those chil- 
dren. Heed the cry of philosophy. Respond to the 
demand of these little hearts. They ask for bread — 
please do not give them a stone. It would be a grand 
day for our Nation if some strong angel would fly 
into every crowded lane and alley, and catch up every 
little child (It is, perhaps, too late to save the parents) 
and bear it away as a Highland shepherd carries a 
lamb in his plaid, over the valleys bright with daisies, 
across the hills covered with their flocks and herds — 
away, away, the farther the better, until kindly homes 
that are childless, or where there is room for another, 
are reached at last, and gently drop them there. 
Their coming will be a benediction, even, like the 
dew-drop in the bosom of a flower. Their lives will 


78 


Grace Porter; 


be redeemed; while crime, poverty and degradation 
will be minimized. Let all the people awake and 
begin to cry out in one universal chorus: “Scatter 
the elements that menace the life and beauty of the 
commonwealth.’’ 

“Oh, let the little feet wander in the grassy fields 
and climb the sun-lit mountain peaks. Let them lie 
down, as I have many a time, on a windrow of new- 
mown hay, and let its sweet breath become an opiate 
that shall make the litttle fellows fall asleep. Com- 
munion with nature, in its fairest forms, is the birth- 
right of every little child. Antaeus was unconquer- 
able only as long as his feet touched the ground. 
If our children are congested in mind and soul, they 
will be weaklings. If they grow near to Nature’s 
heart, they will reach heroic strength. To you who 
are managers of Orphan Homes, in love, not in 
anger, I make this last appeal. For the sake of your 
church, for the sake of your children, for the sake of 
America we all love, in the name of the Christ we 
all worship, I plead with you, open your hands and 
let these little sparrows fly to mothers who are long- 
ing, and nests that are waiting.” 

There was a general clapping of hands. Grace 
looked up, and sweetly said, “Papa, I hope they will 
let the little sparrows out”; while John responded 
from his mother’s lap, “Don’t my papa talk just 
bootiful?” 

The Summer School for this year was closed. 


CHAPTER XII. 

Grace Graduates from High School. 

Why do we not always smile whenever we meet the eye of a fellow - 
being? That is the true recognition which ought to pass from soul 
to soul constantly. Little children in simple communities do this 
involuntarily , unconsciously. The honest-hearted German peasant 
does it. It is like magical sunlight all through that simple land , the 
perpetual greeting on the right hand and the left between strangers 
as they pass by each other, never without a smile .— Helen Hunt. 

DECADE of years has passed 
since the last chapter. It is the 
early summer of 1893. A few 
gray hairs mingled with the black 
reveal to Mrs. Pauline Porter, as 
she glances at her face in the mir- 
ror, that she is now a little past the mile-post of mid- 
dle life. Her form is erect, and her manner, as 
always, is very charming. She is beginning to feel 
rewarded for all she has done and sacrificed for the 
dear children. John, her pride and joy, is growing 
tall and handsome. Grace is bright, witty, winsome. 
Each has fitted into the other’s life in a very wonder- 
ful way. Existence to them is a perpetual delight 
because of their unbroken companionship. They are 
rarely separated even for a day. From the time they 
find the first robin’s nest, as they stroll through the 
meadow hand in hand, until the day when they begin 
to ride every morning in their dog-cart to the village 
school, each seems to be the other’s shadow. John 



80 


Grace Porter; 


is making a fine record in school, and his sister will 
soon graduate with the highest honors from the 
High-school. David Porter has grown a little stouter, 
and as a result of his optimistic nature it is hard to 
tell where the wrinkles leave off and the smiles begin. 
Pauline and he look more and more like each other 
as the years go on. Their love, beginning like the 
apple blossoms, sweet and pure, has developed until 
it has reached a rich fruitage of unquestioning trust 
and happiness. Grandma Margaret Porter has passed 
the seventy-fourth milestone of a very useful life. 
There is no shade of regret when she looks backward, 
and implicit faith when she turns her eyes toward 
the gates of the unseen life. She is not exactly weary, 
yet she is waiting, watching, expectant ; as a bird on 
a limb waits with half-raised wing, so she is ready to 
fly away and be at rest. 

Let Jim tell how matters stand between himself 
and Mary. Sometime in the spring he explains the 
situation to David and Pauline in a half whisper. 

“Oi don’t moind tellin’ yez, in a confidential way, 
that Oi have jist bought the eighty that lies forninst 
this farm east jist loike the Andrews farms lie along 
nixt on the north and west. And Oi’m plannin’ to 
take Mary, me darlint, to that swate little cottage on 
the hill. You see, Mary and me have both bin savin’ 
up since about the toime the little Apostle was left 
on the door-step, and now betwixt us two the eighty 
will be clear, and we can buy a tame and a cow, and 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


81 


I was just about to say a ‘pig for the parlor/ but shure 
Mary, me darlint, would sind that to the shty. We 
will shtay wid yez till afther the fall plowin’. But, 
fath, afther all these years of waitin’, as long as Jacob 
did for both Leah and Rachel, both me and me swate- 
heart would loike to shtand up soide by soide and 
shpake thim little words.” 

“All right Jim, wife and I will be glad to give you 
and Mary a little party.” 

“Thank you both roight hearty.” 

“Have you fixed the happy day, Jim?” 

“Let me see, Misther Porter. Miss Grace will 
spake her piece about the twintieth of June. Oi’d 
loike to call me weddin’ day the Fourth of July. Ye 
see, naythur me nor Mary would iver be willin’ to go 
back to the ould sod, and shure, we would like to feel 
that we are related to ‘Uncle Sam.’ And thin we 
could make belave that all the guns and spaches was 
jist mint to do a rejicin’ over this evint.” 

And so it was settled. 

The twentieth of June, 1893, proved to be a golden 
summer day. An overflowing company of friends, 
amid the usual setting of music and flowers, listened 
eagerly to the rendering of an excellent pro- 
gram. It is hardly necessary to say that every- 
body from the Porter farm-house was present. 
Our readers will remember the story Grace told 
about the earthquake when she was a little girl. She 
evidently has a gift in this direction. With her rich, 


82 Grace Porter; 

musical voice she won all hearts by this story of The 
Lost Roses: 

THE LOST ROSES. 

“Thank you, I am glad you are pleased with my 
perfume. You wonder that I, a beautiful rose, can 
live in this cold, barren room. I shall not live much 
longer; my hours are numbered. Although I have 
suffered much here, I shall be sorry to die, because 
of the pleasure I am giving to this pale, sorrowful 
woman who cares for me so tenderly. 

“I have quite an interesting little story to tell, if 
you care to listen. Yes, this is not my home, as you 
have surmised. I have always been a little proud of 
my station in life ; pray, do not censure me for it. But 
I fear I am wearying you. 

“Ever since I can remember I have lived in a large 
glass house, surrounded by many like myself and by 
hundreds of other flowers. I was always called a 
‘great beauty/ and should doubtless have been 
spoiled, but for the careful teachings of my friends. 
Yes! flowers have friends, very dear ones, too. 

“My best friend was my rival ; that is, if two who 
are very unlike in appearance and disposition can be 
rivals. She was white, I was red; she was gentle, I 
was passionate ; she appealed to the heart, I appealed 
to the fancy. I confess that it is, in part, due to her 
sweet companionship that I have become even as 
good as I am. When many were singing our praises, 
I endeavored to conquer my pride, and to be as 
modest as the white rose. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


83 


‘‘For a long time, we had waited eagerly for our 
first glimpse of society, and at length it came. Two 
young ladies had watched us grow, day by day, and 
when we attained the height of our splendor, they 
seemed to be as happy as we. I well remember the 
night when the tall girl, with the dark eyes, plucked 
me from my stem and carried me away. Sorrow at 
the thought of leaving my friend was mingled with 
my pleasure, until I discovered that she was to go, 
also. By listening attentively, we learned that one 
young lady was to wear me in her jet black hair, 
while the white rose was designed for the fair, young 
sister. 

“We were, however, to be tied up with a few 
other flowers, until we should reach the ball-room. 
This duty was intrusted to a maid, but she treated us 
so cruelly that the white rose cried out with pain. To 
do the girl justice, I do not think she meant to be un- 
kind, but was in such a hurry, that she did not con- 
sider our feelings. Be that as it may, our fear con- 
quered our pain when we saw how loosely we were 
tied together. I cried with all my might and be- 
sought her to be more careful, but in vain. We were 
borne hastily away, clinging to one another in our 
great terror, lest we should fall and be lost. We de- 
scended the stairs, and were soon out in the cold, 
wintry night. We were chilled, but consoled our- 
selves with the thought that a warm carriage was 
waiting for us only a few steps away. I can just re- 


84 


Grace Porter; 


member, slipping, slipping and telling myself to hold 
on a little longer, but my strength failed; all was 
darkness. 

“When I came to myself, I was lying on a stone 
pavement, stunned by my fall. Oh, how can I depict 
my feelings for the first few moments ! I was alone, 
utterly forsaken, destined to be frozen to death, trod- 
den under the ruthless foot of man. I was trying to 
decide which death was preferable, when I became 
conscious that something was beside me. I looked, 
half frightened, half assured ; it was the white rose. I 
strove, at first in vain, to restore her to consciousness, 
kissing her tenderly — for flowers have their tokens of 
affection — and calling her, “Beautiful White Rose.” 
At last my efforts were rewarded; she opened her 
eyes. When she had recovered from her bewilder- 
ment she told me that I had caught hold of her, that 
she had tried to save us both, but could not. Then 
for a few moments, we forgot our terror and pain in 
the joy of being again united. 

“Hark! A step approaches. We try to prepare 
ourselves for the inevitable, to say our last farewell. 
Nearer and nearer comes the unconscious destroyer, 
— but no ! we are discovered, welcomed with a joyful 
cry. Then we are covered up, and carried swiftly 
away. 

“We were glad to be warm once more, although 
we could not see the wonderful streets, of which we 
had talked so long. On we went, farther and farther, 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


85 


until it seemed as if we had always been moving, then 
up a countless number of stairs. We heard a latch 
click, we entered a room, and our wrappings were re-, 
moved. 

“A bare room, a small table, a lamp with a cracked 
chimney, a rheumatic chair, and a small pallet in the 
corner — that is what we saw. We were laid gently 
upon the table, and the woman stole to the little bed, 
bending over a slight form, which we could just dis- 
cern in the dim light. — ‘God be praised! she still 
lives/ cried the mother. ‘Darling, I have brought 
you the roses.’ The lashes quivered, the blue eyes 
opened, and a little weak voice, tremulous with de- 
light, exclaimed, ‘Oh, mamma! Where?’ ‘Here 
they are/ — bringing us from the table, — ‘one for each 
hand, isn’t that nice?’ ‘Oh, mamma, how pretty!’ 
and the little one fell asleep with a smile of satisfac- 
tion upon her pale lips.” 

“We felt the little hands grow colder, saw the little 
face grow whiter and the tears well up in the eyes and 
course down the cheeks of the anxious watcher. We 
tried to comfort the sad-hearted mother but she did 
not listen; she could not then understand our lan- 
guage. 

“For some time we remained thus. At length the 
little girl raised her eyes, and with a beautiful con- 
tented smile looked at her mother, then at us. 

“ ‘Mamma, I saw Jesus just now. He wanted me 
to come and live with Him, and said I would never 


8 > 


Grace Porter; 


suffer any more, just as you read in your book, and 
He is so beautiful, Mamma, and wants me to go so 
much; I will just stay a little while, and then I’ll come 
back, and tell you all about it.’ A pause. ‘Mamma, 
I heard Mrs. Gray say I was going to die, — I’ll go 
with Jesus instead.’ Again a pause, but the mother 
did not tell her little one that she was going with 
dreaded Death, also. ‘Mamma, I want to take some- 
thing to Jesus, — I’ll take the little white rose — you 
keep the red one, — until I come back — you like red 
so much. Goodby, Mamma, I am going — ’ 

“The white rose was willing to die thus, to be bur- 
ied alive, in the little girl’s hand. Our parting was 
sweetened by the thought of the good we were doing. 
I should have coveted the death of my companion, 
had I not been able to comfort the sorrowing 
mother. 

“I am failing, you see, I am losing my leaves, but 
as they fall, they are laid carefully away in her one 
book. I would not change my life if I could; T 
would thank, were I able, the careless maid who gavel 
us unintentionally so great a pleasure. 

“I am glad you like my story, and thank you for 
your consoling words and assistance to my poor 
friend. As I may never see you again, I want to ask 
you as a last favor to give my story to the world. Tell 
your friends that even flowers would rather be loved 
than admired ; entreat them to send us as messengers 
to the suffering, and not doom us to a useless death 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


87 


in heated ball-rooms. Then shall I feel that my life 
has not been in vain, that I have made a little hap- 
pier, the world of man, and the world of flowers.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A Wedding* on the Fourth of July. 

All mankind love a lover. — Emerson. 

DAY — 

happened. Jim always was odd, 
but now the funniest notion of all 
came into his head. It was the na- 
tive kindness of his heart that led 
him to this singular step. 

In the village lived a German minister who, hav- 
ing no church, found it hard to get a living. 

Oi’ll have him say the words that will bind me to 
me darlint, and that will hilp the poor man.” 

* * * * 

“O’i came,” said Jim, “to sphake to yir riverance 
about unitin’ Mary and meself on Indepindence day 
at foive o’clock at Misther David Porter’s.” 

“Mit Measure, mein Herr. Vy come you to a 
Scherman breacher?” 

“Mary (she’ll be me wife on Indepindence day) 
says, ‘Jim, Oi’d be glad to hilp him as maybe he’s hun- 
gry loike.’ Oid thought of that meself and so we 
were agrade about it. We’ve laid by a good many 
dollars and we’ll gladly give yez a tin.” 

“Dat vas goot. I say my hearty tanks.” 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


89 


“Shure and would yez be afther tellin’ the loikes 
of me why yez not preachin’ and havin’ a salary?” 

“Yaw, id vas dis vay, mein freund. I travel all de 
vay de country ofer. I find ein shurch und many, 
many peebles in vat you call it — I tinks it vas Taco- 
ma. Veil, mein peebles vas vat you call them — tired? 
Yaw, I feel so much like mein heart it vud break. 
Vat I do? I tink, oh, so many times. I kept tinkin’ 
and tinkin’ (here he tapped his forehead lightly with 
his index finger) I make me ein big sermon ready, 
und go on mein pulpit und I say, ‘Mein beluvid peeb- 
les, it ish in mein heart to say you vas tired mit lazin- 
esh. You should get ein muve on you. Und vat 
tink you den? Who you tink get a muve on him? 
Vas it dem peebles? Nein, it vas I, dis shentleman, 
de Rev. Peter Peffer. He get a muve on him right 
avay.” 

Jim took his leave, having great difficulty to keep 
from roaring with laughter. 

“Yez will remimber the toime yir riverance?” 

“Yaw, I will ofer come at fife o’clock, mein freund. 
Goot nacht.” 


* * * * 

It is pretty safe to prophesy that it will rain on the 
Fourth of July. It is close and humid all the morn- 
ing. The clouds seem ready to run over, like eyes 
that are full of tears. 

About nine o’clock the drops begin to fall. Faster 


90 


Grace Porter; 


and more furious beats the storm until the patter, pat- 
ter of the raindrops cease to fall like music on the ear. 
Their rythm is swallowed up in the rush and roar of 
the falling water. It seemed as if all the brooks had 
been caught up by the sun and their weight had rent 
the clouds assunder. The author remembers a time 
long ago, when he was caught in a terrific downpour 
on a summer’s day. He also remembers a descrip- 
tion of it given by a Scotchman, whom this cloud- 
burst almost drowned. “It neither rained nor 
poured,” said he, “it just hurled it down out of buck- 
ets.” 


* * * * 

Mary, who was usually very quiet and uncom- 
plaining, wears a troubled look this morning. At 
any other time she would not have said a word had it 
rained a week. Brides are a bit superstitious, I fancy. 
Their bridal day is looked upon as prophetic of their 
married life. She is thinking of the words, “Happy 
the bride the sun shines on,” and the terrific storm 
makes her tremble. 

“Oh, Jim,” said she, “it makes me sad loike to see 
the rain drown the grass and bate all of the beauty 
out of the swate flowers. I had set me heart on 
walkin’ out in the sunlight lanin’ on yir arm and 
standin’ through the ciremony under the big elms 
forninst the door. Alack a-day, that drame is over.” 

“Never moind, dearie, our love is so bright shure 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


91 


it will light the altar, and besides, unless the world 
has turned over and the dape say is above us it must 
soon shtop for the want of wather. I’ve just thought 
out a conundrum. Why is this Fourth of July loike 
the book of Lamentations ?” 

“Shure I can’t tell, Jim.” 

“Why both of them are full of wapein\” 

He had a temperament so cheerful that, failing to 
find one, he would paint a silver lining around the 
darkest clouds of life. His joy seemed to well up 
from depths almost infinite. People who have arte- 
sian souls, however humble, are the greatest bene- 
factors of the human race. 

* * * * 

By noon the clouds are nearly empty. At two 
o’clock the sun breaks through and all nature smiles 
again. Are there nerves that run through all crea- 
tion, so that everything and everybody, feels the beat 
of a great and infinite heart? Clouds in the sky and 
clouds on our brow ! Sunbeams falling outside, 
faces illumined inside ! Was it the roses on the bush 
that reproduced themselves on the cheek of the 
bride? Who can tell? We are surely very near to 
nature’s heart. Mary has become her own gentle, 
quiet self again, and Jim is as happy as a king. 

A few minutes before five o’clock the invited 
neighbors gather, coming almost as if they were a 
single family, or a swarm of bees in flight. Among 
the early arrivals is the Rev. Peter Pefifer. 


92 


Grace Porter; 


“Gooten Abend,” is his salutation to everybody. 

There is a few minutes delay beyond the hour. 
Looking up at the clock he turns to Mr. Porter, and 
in a tone as low as a German, with his heavy voice, 
can reach, inquires : 

“Hafe dey not made themselves ready yet?” Vat 
you call dem, dose two peebles vat I make into von?” 

He had whispered out loud, and a smile passes 
around. 

Five minutes later the couple enter, with Jim on 
the wrong side. There has been no rehearsal. 

The mistake is noticed by the “Rev. Shentlemen.” 
Walking up to Jim he says, in the same sort of whis- 
per as before : 

jt v “Mein freund I can’t make you into von dat way, 
you musht yourself go on de oder side ofer.” 

Everybody hears him and the smile grows bigger. 

“Be jabers,” said Jim, (just a little out of patience) 
“I won’t give yez the tin unless I can shtand on this 
soide.” 

That brings peace, but the smile has become a 
titter. 

“Take holt hants.” 

“Adam and Eve vas de fust peebles vat up shtand, 
und some little vords say. All de time down dis de 
best vay has been. It vas not goot for a man to lift 
alone by himself all de vile. Der vas no besser fish 
caught out of de sea dan dose vat be in a vaitin’ to 
be caught.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


93 


His sermon came to a sudden end. The idea sud- 
denly struck Jim that the Rev. Peter Peffer might 
have a plan to preach on until he would go to the 
"oder side ofer.” He drops Mary’s hand and tries to 
"swing around the circle.” His toes trip on the 
bridal dress and he falls to his knees. Rising, in a 
moment, he comes to the right spot with a smile. 

"Anoder time take holt hants.” 

"Now each of you two peebles holt de right hant 
of de oder. You make ein promise before dese 
peebles vat look on, to always luff and obey de oder 
ven you vas sick und ven you vas not sick, ven you 
vas poor und ven you vas rich, und dis you will do all 
de time till old you get and don’t live some more?” 

Jim answered, "That’s me plan, yir riverance.” 

Mary quietly responded, "Yis.” 

"Dese two vas now made von. Let no man or 
voman ever divide them in two.” 

Salutations follow. Grace and John come for- 
ward, hand in hand, to greet the bride and groom. 

"It most breaks me heart to lave the children,” 
says big-hearted Jim Donahue. 

After refreshments are served the friends depart 
for their homes. In the hall Jim slips a "tin” into the 
hands of the "Rev. Shentleman” as he is about to get 
another "muve on him.” 

"Tanks ! Goot nacht,” said the minister. 

His hat is lifted and he is gone. 

As the glorious sun is giving a good-night kiss to 


94 


Grace Porter; 


the western hills, his rays fall on the couple as they 
stand on the veranda. 

“Mary,” says Jim, “Oi’m shure ye’ll be happy all 
yir loife, for the sun is shinin’ on me bride.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Grace Goes to College. 

The friends thou hast and their adoption tried grapple them 
to thy soul urith hooks of steel. — Shakespeare. 



has been already stated that 
David Porter, when a young 
man, for a time enjoyed the ad- 
vantages of a State University. 
He recognized that it was 
splendidly equipped to train the 


intellect, yet not so well fitted to build char- 
acter as the smaller Christian College. He 
saw that the ethical nature is not there devel- 
oped uniformly with the mental powers. In this 
way the equilibrium, which should be the aim in a 
liberal education, is not secured. Preferring a full 
and uniform culture of all her powers, of heart as well 
as brain, with the full approval of his wife and daugh- 
ter, Grace is sent, in September, 1893, to Downer 
College, Fox Lake, Wis. Grandma’s face has in it 
a touch of sadness which soon gives place to her ac- 
customed look of peace and contentment. Only John 
enters a protest. He could not bear the thought of 
separation. He is, however, both heroic and unselfish 
and so his objection is only for a day. When he 
thinks it over he allows his head to rule his heart. 
He soon sees it is a golden opportunity for his sister, 


96 


Grace Porter; 


and for her sake he rejoices. Mrs. Pauline Porter 
makes the short journey with her daughter. 

They meet the President and are introduced to the 
faculty. In two days her studies are arranged, and 
another matter also, always of the highest import- 
ance. The mother is very careful (as all mothers 
should be) about the selection of her room-mate. 
After a full conference with the President, she 
chooses a young lady of the Junior Class, Ruth Wil- 
lard. She has a reputation for faithfulness to every 
duty. She enjoys the College, but most of all she 
loves her Lord. To her He is as the “shadow of a 
great rock in a weary land.” Modest about her de- 
votion, her daily life makes the revelation, as the bub- 
bling spring reveals the hidden fountain. (The au- 
thor remembers with gratitude the moulding influ- 
ence of a young minister, which touched his heart at 
a critical time, and redeemed his life.) 

The companionship of a room-mate often makes 
or mars a young and plastic life. This is a case of love 
at first sight. They are different, but attraction re- 
sults from opposite poles. From the first all things 
are in common. It would describe them well to call 
them communistic chums. They are always together, 
except during the hours of recitation. Grace has 
grown up in an atmosphere of truth and love. The 
effect on her life at the college is to re-enforce and re- 
veal all that in her home life has fitted her for a day 
of coronation. A young soul comes to its kingdom 


A Jewel Lost and Found 


97 


when the will yields, and the Lord conies into the life. 
Grace has often heard of the pearl of greatest price. 
Ruth, with loving hand, leads her into the field where 
the treasure lies hidden, and she finds it. 

“I want,” said Grace, “to give my life for others, 
because He gave His life for me.” 

Grace takes a class in Sunday School, next to 
Ruth. She soon finds the secret of the highest joy 
on earth. She reads one day about that devoted 
steward of the Master, who built a chapel in the 
crowded part of a great city, where “the people sit in 
darkness and have no light.” Soon after a wild storm 
on the sea sinks several ships, which had been the 
source of his wealth. He is nearly bankrupt. A 
friend condoling with him says, “I wish you had the 
money you gave the chapel. It seems to me that 
was lost.” 

“You are mistaken,” said the kingly merchant, 
“had I not placed it there, like the rest of my money, 
it would have gone into a ship and now be at the bot- 
tom of the ocean. That is the best investment I ever 
made.” 

“I see,” says Grace, “what we keep we lose, while 
that we give we gain. Thank God, I have learned 
the secret of a happy life — the secret that makes 
seraphic the face of Grandma, and illumines the heads 
of all the loved ones in the dear old home.” 

She is right. She has a liberal education already. 
One may know many books, and yet not know even 


98 


Grace Porter; 


the alphabet of life. We never graduate and reach 
the Master’s degree until we say, “I am not my own, 

I am bought with a price.” Then the finite touches' 
the infinite — harmony is reached, and harmony is an- 
other name for happiness. 

Soon after entering the college Grace one day no- 
tices the picture of a little girl, in the place of honor, 
on the parlor mantel. 

“What sweet little face is this?” she said. 

“Oh, that,” said Ruth, “is the child of the college.” 

“Why, there are no little children here ! What do ' 
you mean?” 

“Haven’t you heard about her? Why, we girls 
are very fond of her. You remember it is said of 
Christ, ‘Whom not having seen ye love.’ So we all 
love her unseen. You see she was homeless. She 
had no care and no one to love her. An agent of the 
Children’s Home Society took her in his arms to a 
childless family, when she was very young, and now 
all three in that home are very happy.” 

“But how did you girls get interested in her?” 

“Why,” continued Ruth, “the same agent of the 
Society came here — he comes every year — is our 
guest often. He always gives us an address; tells us 
that every homeless child, sound in mind and body, 
can be placed quickly in the home and hearts of peo- 
ple — good people — who are glad to educate them and 
train them to be noble citizens.” 

“Where is their Institution? I never heard of it.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


99 


“Oh, they don’t have any. They board the chil- 
dren by the week in private families, until they are 
given to their new parents. In that way they are not 
herded and it is far the cheapest method. The agent 
says it is wrong to take away from any creature that 
which naturally belongs to it. Instinct determines 
its habitat. Thus a bee should have a hive — a fish 
should have a brook — a bird should have a nest, and 
by the same rule a child should have a mother. The 
last time he was here he said, Tf you girls will give 
the Society $10 a year for five years, that will repre- 
sent a rescued child; will be all it will ever cost the 
humane public.’ We accepted the offer and chose 
this ‘tootsey girl.’ She is the child of the College— 
and we are planning to have her graduate here some 
day. “Grace,” says Ruth, “with a pathetic voice and 
downcast eyes, “isn’t it sad to think how many chil- 
dren are left to perish, and what a good work it is to 
pick them up and take them out of the cold to some- 
one who, with mother-love, will warm them in her 
bosom? When I hear this man speak, I always think 
of the perishing travelers, and the noble dogs of St. 
Bernard. 'God pity the innocents’ is my daily 
prayer.” 

Ruth hears a sob — looks up and the face of her 
friend is bathed in tears. She folds Grace in her 
arms. The heaving of her bosom shows Ruth that 
she is swayed by a tempest of emotion. 

“What is the matter,” she says, “shall I bring you 
something?” . ... * 


100 


Grace Porter; 


“No,” replies Grace, “thank you, I was only 
thinking. Forgive me. I will soon be better.” 

“Remember, dear Grace (as she drew her down be- 
side her on the sofa, and twined her arms about her 
tenderly), there must be no secrets between us, for 
we are sisters now. Something says to me that Grace 
has a chapter i.i her life, that I have never heard.” 

“If I tell you, Ruth, you won’t cast me out of your 
heart, will you?” 

“Why, no, darling* more likely I will give you a 
larger room in it — promote you from the kitchen to 
the parlor.” 

“I once was lost, but thank God, I was found,” 
said the weeping girl : then in a low, melting voice, 
she tells the story of Harrisburg in the ears of her 
friend. 

When she has finished Ruth is weeping, but 
Grace’s tears have ceased to fall. Thus when others 
weep for us our own hearts are comforted. 

“My dear Grace,” says Ruth, “we cherish most 
those who have suffered most. I never loved you so 
much before,” and she kisses her as tenderly as a 
mother would. 

Toward the close of the term a gentleman, whom 
Grace had never seen appears in the pulpit at the 
morning service. As the two girls enter the door 
Ruth says to Grace in a whisper : 

“That is the agent of the Children’s Home So- 
ciety ; I suppose it is his annual visit.” 


A Jewel Ia>st and Found. 


101 


In due time he reads his text, “God setteth the sol- 
itary in families. ,, He developes the thought that 
the family is the unit of the State — that it is far the 
best way to put every homeless child you can where 
God meant it should be, and conversely it is best for 
the family to have a child or children in it. 

“This plan also/’ said he, “costs only a trifle as 
compared to the orphanage.” 

He drew this picture. 

“Do you older people remember a night, many 
years ago, some one comes softly into your room at 
the twilight hour? The curtain is drawn down 
silently, shutting out the last rays of light. Then she 
comes to your crib. Your eyes are heavy. That she 
is there is rather an instinct than a vision. You 
feel rather than see that she is near. She bends over 
you. Gently the covering is tucked in on either side. 
Your eyes are half open. She is close to your face. 
Her lips touch yours. Sleep follows; blessed child- 
hood's sleep! * * * 

It seems but a few moments but the night is 
past. The sun is shining. Never did soldier feel 
so safe behind moat and castle-wall as you did, 
with mother near. But suppose we take mother- 
hood out of child-life, pray tell me, what is 
left? Very little. Nobody cares for the old nest 
of a bird. A few sticks, a bit of clay, some broken 
shells! The life and beauty and song have gone. 
Can there be a restoration? Yes, but how? Bring 


102 


Grace Porter; 


into it a mother-bird. So into the cheerless life of 
the little orphan bring a new ‘mamma,’ and then 
love, beauty and song will come again. Oh, let the 
desolate hearts have children! Oh, let the desolate 
children have hearts and homes.” 

That night the agent, by invitation of the Presi- 
dent, speaks again in the chapel of the College to a 
large audience. He emphasizes the words of Jesus, 
“Whosoever shall receive one such little child in my 
name receiveth me.” He makes it very clear that it 
is the duty of families, who are able and fitted for this 
Christly service, to receive some child ready to perish, 
and that where the child goes the Lord will make His 
home. Facts and philosophy, by the shuttle of 
speech, are woven into a pattern of light and beauty. 
Some of the incidents deeply touch the hearts of the 
girls, and as they think of the contrasts between the 
lot of the homeless and their good fortune, the in- 
cense of their gratitude ascends to God. With a 
deeper sense of thankfulness they sing: 

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” 

The benediction is pronounced by one of the pas- 
tors and the Sabbath is ended. 

Next day the agent visits the children placed in 
the neighborhood, saying he would record the result 
of the visit, and if any child was neglected or abused, 
he would take the necessary steps to remove it. He 
finds all of them well and happy. The happiness is 
mutual. He hears of a little girl, a few miles in the 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


103 


country, who needs a loving home. “Homes,” he 
says, “are always waiting for girls.” He will return 
for her in a few days. “They are wanted,” he adds, 
“not for servants, but for daughters. Bright boys 
are also sought for by worthy families.” He makes 
a canvass for funds and many give. People love to 
give for children. The Society has no other source 
of income. All receipts are voluntary. Many pray- 
ers go with the cheerful gifts. 

The agent calls at the College. The teachers and 
students contribute joyfully for ‘the college chil<J.’ 
The second payment toward the fifty dollars is easily 
raised, and the agent, as always, hands them the re- 
ceipt of the Society. 

Grace seeks an interview. She thanks him for the 
pleasure he has given her. She adds : 

“I wish you would arrange to visit our church at 
the Christmas vacation. I will be at home. And* 
promise me one thing — you will be our guest.” 

He promises and takes his leave. Grace tells 
Ruth, and adds, “Something tells me that this man’s 
visit will be blest like the ‘showers that water the 
earth.’ ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


The Best Sermon Ever Preached in the Old Church. 



Our childhood is everything . — James Lane Allen. 

4 . 

I// T was arranged by letter with their 
parents that Ruth should spend 
most of her holidays with Grace at 
their delightful home in the coun- 
try. They had learned to lean on 
each other, though which was the 
staff it would be hard to say. They seemed essential 
to each other, like twin roses on a bush, or twin stars 
in the heavens. 

Never did a sailor, who has compassed the ocean 
hasten to his little home with a lighter heart, than 
Grace to the old farm-house. The warmest kind of 
a welcome awaited the girls. John met them at the 
station, her father and mother at the gate, and she 
was folded in grandmother’s arms as soon as the 
threshold was crossed. She missed Jim and Mary, 
who had gone to live in the “Swate little cot- 
tage on the hill.” Home on vacation at Christmas 
time! We hold but few sweeter things in the realm 
of our memory. The recollection of jingling sleigh- 
bells — coasting down the long hill — hanging up our 
stockings — listening to the family clock, and after a 
sweet goodnight, climbing the old familiar stairs with* 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


105 


a lamp in one hand and a warm flat-iron in the other ! 
Oh dear, how the memory seems to quicken the beat 
of my heart. And the famous reindeer of Santa Claus 
can hardly equal the speed of the delightful hours. 

It had been arranged that Mr. Davis, the District 
Superintendent, of the Children’s Home Society, 
should be their guest from Saturday night to Tues- 
day noon. As the girls knew him at the College they 
went with John to meet him, on the evening train. 
After supper the young people spent the evening 
hours at games or music, with some of their friends in 
the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. Porter sat until bed-time 
with their guest in a little circle around the open fire- 
place. Grandma had an easy chair in a cosy corner, 
where she could hear their quiet talk. Her illumined 
face revealed her deep and tender interest. After a 
few words on topics of general interest David Porter 
said : 

“Mr. Davis, I suppose you have learned from 
Grace that she and John are our adopted children. 
This has so enlarged our hearts that mother, wife and 
I are all very deeply interested in every homeless 
child. Your method is new to us and I would be 
glad to ask you several questions, so that we may get 
the clearest possible idea of your plan.” 

“I will be very glad to answer,” says Mr. Davis. 

“Anticipating your coming I have written them 
down,” replied Mr. Porter. 

“Where is your Institution?” 


106 


Grace Porter; 


“We have no building. We don’t want any. We 
utilize the family homes where there is room for a 
child anywhere in the State.” 

“But how then do you care for them until you 
place them in families?” 

“We pay for their board for a few days or weeks, 
in private homes, because this plan is most economi- 
cal.” 

“How long on an average do you keep them?” 

“Less than ten days.” 

“What ages do you receive?” 

“We place no age limits. Have received children 
ranging from 3 days to 16 years. 

“What class of children do you take?” 

“Any child that is homeless or disadvantaged, of 
which we can get legal control, and not a cripple. 

“What do you mean by a cripple?” 

“Cripples are of three kinds : 

(a.) Of the head — or the idotic. 

(b.) Of the body — or the deformed. 

(c.) Those completely incorrigible. 

“For these unfortunates, Institutions must be pro- 
vided. All others, or perhaps nine-tenths of all de- 
pendent children, can be placed quickly and carefully 
in good family homes.” 

“What are the chief causes of homelessness?” 

“Drink, divorce, desertion, disease and death.” 

“Of what nationality are most of the children?” 

“About in proportion to the different languages 
that are spoken in the State.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


107 


“Where do most of the children come from into 
your hands?” 

“From relatives, or a parent, who are led to give 
them up by reason of poverty. From Supervisors, or 
poormasters, to relieve the Town or County of large 
expense. From people at whose house a child has 
been abandoned. From Hospitals. From several 
small Orphanages and Homes for the Friendless, who 
are convinced that our plan is the best. From 
guardians of orphan children — they by our request 
retaining control of any money or property belonging 
to the ward.” 

“For what kind of children do you have the most 
applications?” 

“For 'a nice little girl from i to 3 years old with 
blue eyes, curly hair, and dimple in her chin.’ ” 

“What age can you fit best into the family?” 

“The younger the better. Love grows out of 
helplessness. The littlest fingers take the firmest 
hold of the heart strings. Years of experience con- 
vince us that this is the wisest thing to do — especially 
in the case of a childless home.” 

“What proportion of your wards are placed with 
people having no other child?” 

“About one half.” 

“Do people ask you for a second child?” 

“Yes, in many cases families are applying to us, 
that their first child may have companionship, and 
thus grow into a loving and generous life.” 


108 


Grace Porter; 


“Do these foster parents appreciate the child they 
adopt?” 

“They usually speak of them as sunbeams and de- 
clare they would rather give up their house or their 
farm.” 

“Are you not encouraging the breaking up of 
families?” 

“By no means. We have no police powers. We 
want none. We only step in when nothing else can 
be done, and when it becomes a question between 
putting them into an Orphanage, or directly into a 
family circle. Police powers and large fees for hur- 
rying children into Institutions furnish the tempta- 
tion for the needless sundering of the family tie.” 

“Was there any need for your Society?” 

I “Emphatically, yes. We entered a field so far left 
untilled. Some of the orphanages are largely en- 
gaged in boarding children for small pay until the 
living parent can again establish a home (an excellent 
work.) For our wards there is no hope of a future 
home unless we place them in it. Orphanages do 
only, or at least, largely a local work. We travel 
into every corner of the State. Some of them have 
rules of admission that shut out about two-thirds of 
the friendless children for whom we provide.” 

“Why do you consider your plan the best?” 

“Any plan that helps a homeless child is worthy of 
support. But the ‘good’ (some one has wisely said) 
‘stands in the way of the best.’ Listen to a few fun- 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


109 


damental reasons why this method excels all others. 
To most people they will simply be axioms. 

(a.) Individual love is evoked. A heart for a 
child, and a child for a heart leads to mutual happi- 
ness. 

(b.) This method is scientific. A child wants 
and needs a mother. Our plan provides one. 

(c.) It is practical. From the number of appli- 
cations received it is possible to incorporate every 
bright and healthy child into a loving home. It is 
only a question of time and patience. 

(d.) This plan will lead to self-support at major- 
ity. Philosophically a child that has every plan made 
for it (as in an Institution) will grow up with the idea 
that some one will always take care of it. In a family 
the “tootsies” are laying plans for an independent 
business life before they graduate from their crib. 

(e.) It prepares for good citizenship. Every- 
body will concede that the family is the unit in build- 
ing the Commonwealth. Therefore we look to the 
home, and not to the Institution, for the men and the 
women who shall be the pillars in the State. 

(f.) Children raised in an Institution will reach 
their majority empty-handed. On Christmas Eve 
one of our agents laid a babe of 4 months m the arms 
of her new mother. This family had taken a boy 
babe two years before. Their application was ex- 
pressed in this way: ‘We have two good farms. We 
want two children. They will then have a farm 


110 Grace Porter; 

apiece. We forbear to give other reasons lest you 
become weary.’ ” 

“What title do you take?” 

“A full legal release and consent to adoption from 
living parents or guardian; or commitment by a 
Court. 

“What do you know about families where you 
place them?” 

“We visit the family ; we consult with the best citi- 
zens of the town and always give the child the benefit 
of any doubt as to the fitness of the home.” 

This is the danger-point in the placing out system. 
We guard this with great care.” 

“Do you visit the children afterward?” 

“In all cases the Society maintains a watchful care 
over children that have been placed. It looks occas- 
ionally, with discretion, into the homes and thus pre- 
vents abuse and neglect.” 

“Do you place children near where you find 
them?” 

“Never. The child should begin a new life in the 
new home. Its love and life should not be divided 
by the visits of former friends. The new home has 
rights, growing out of the expenditure of time and 
money, that must be protected. All information 
passing to and fro must be through our office.” 

“Do you keep records?” 

“Yes, a page is devoted to each child. This in 
time will be of great value, when children who are 


A Jewel Lost and Fouwd. 


Ill 


now unavoidably separated shall desire a reunion, 
when they have reached manhood and womanhood. 1 ' 

“Do you give a legal title to children?” 

“Yes. When, after a time of probation, all parties 
are satisfied, full adoption papers (or a contract) are 
prepared and sent by us. A copy of this order of the 
County Court is kept by us, so that the property 
rights of the child is protected by a double record.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Davis.” , 

“That is surely the best way — best for the home- 
less child, and we know it is a benediction to the 
childless home. Each needs the other, as the petal 
needs the dew-drop.” 

Mr. Davis then gave several incidents from bis 
ripe experience — some comical, some pathetic. 

Then came sweet sleep — nowhere sweeter than in 
the old farm-house. The day of rest was one of cheer 
and brightness. A spirit of worship seems to come 
over the world at Christmas-tide. Our hearts seem 
drawn by some psychic power, like that which led 
the Wise Men to follow the Star, until we come with 
them and lay our gifts at the feet of Bethlehem's 
Babe. A large audience was gathered in the village 
church at the hour of morning service. 

The pastor reads the story of the Annuciation, fol- 
lowed by that of the wondering shepherds who “kept 
their flocks by night.” The singers seem inspired. 

When the time for the sermon comes, the pastor 


says: 


112 


Grace Porter; 


“I wish you, my dear people, A Happy Neiv Year, 
The best way to realize it is to give yourselves to 
God and your fellow-men. Here is a brother — no, 
that is too formal — this is my friend, who, like our 
Master, is going about doing good. He will tell you 
fully about his work — the Rev. Mr. Davis.” 

“My text,” says Mr. Davis, rising, “will be these 
words, ‘J esus called a little child unto Him, and set 
him in the midst of them.’ ” In quiet, yet impas- 
sioned words, he briefly tells the story of the child- 
hood and youth of the Saviour. He then draws the 
lesson that the nearer the mother is like the Madonna, 
the more the child will resemble the Christ. The 
sermon is a plea to give every little girl and boy a 
family home, as near as may be, like the home in 
Nazareth. “Out of this came,” said he, “that blessed 
ministry; and so still, after eighteen centuries, the 
benefactors of the race are the evolution of mother- 
hood.” 

The plan of this Christian charity is shown to be, 

(A) Natural. 

( B ) Practical, and 

(C) Economical. 

Each division is fully discussed. 

“I will now tell you briefly,” says Mr. Davis, “the 
story of some homeless children we wish to place, by 
adoption, in family homes of the highest type. The 
first is a boy of nine years, whose name is Oliver. 
We found him in a poor-house. That was not his 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


113 


fault, but his misfortune. He was sent to a State 
Institution and at once sent back again. He had a 
club foot and was thus debarred from entrance. We 
hope to have the law changed, for surely one great 
purpose of the State should be to help the helpless. 
We took him to a hospital. Skillful surgery slowly 
turned the foot in front, and by dropping down the 
heel the limbs became of the same length. He still 
wears a brace, but in a short time this can be laid 
aside. This is the rescue of a cripple. Nothing now 
is lacking but a home. I want you to furnish that, 
lest he be crippled in mind and heart. 

“This,” says Mr. Davis, “is the other child for 
whom I make an appeal.” 

So saying, he steps down from the pulpit and 
takes from the arms of a lady a little girl of three 
years. As he reclimbs the pulpit stairs he explains 
that he brought her with him the night before, and 
left her with a friend in the village. 

“If this little motherless lamb,” said he, “was old 
enough to understand it, I would not do this, as it 
would wound her feelings. That would be wrong.” 

The child clings to his neck and her little feet 
stand on the open Bible. In low, melting tones he 
tells her story. A hush that was almost painful falls 
on the audience. 

“She is the youngest of five. The rest we have 
placed in homes. Her mother has gone to the beau- 
tiful land. But for one thing she would have been 


114 


Grace Porter; 


taken to fond hearts a month ago. She was neg- 
lected. Her mother was dying. The light has gone 
out of this right eye. It will never return. She needs 
a mother. Which of God’s children will open your 
hearts?” 

The whole audience was melted into tears. It was 
like Rachel weeping for her children when Herod 
slew the innocents. Mr. Davis sits down with little 
Mabel still clinging to him. The pastor, rising, says, 
‘That child has preached the best sermon ever deliv- 
ered from this pulpit. Let us pray,” he quietly adds. 

“Oh Lord, let the spirit of the Holy Babe fall on 
every one of us here and now, and may these little 
homeless ones, whose lot has been so dark, come 
soon into the light and joy of the home life, and, like 
Jesus, have a mother. Grant this for His dear sake.” 

In a few moments the service ended, and many 
lingered to speak to Mr. Davis and little Mabel. Mrs. 
Campbell was one of these. Her husband, seeing 
this, took his opportunity to speak to him quietly at 
the door. 

Said he, “The lady who spoke to you first after 
you came out of the pulpit is my wife What did she 
want?” 

“She applied for the nine-year-old boy.” 

“I thought so. Don’t let her have him. We have 
taken twin boys, Charles and Fred. They are all 
right, but I don’t want any more. Say, stranger, 
bring all the lambs and girls you want to, but don’t 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


115 


bring any dogs or boys. She wants all she sees." 

“Please bring Mabel home with you, Mr. Davis," 
said Mrs. Porter, in a whisper. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Completing a Family. 

Where there is room in the heart there is always room in 
the house — Moore. 

W HAT delightful fellowship is found 
in a noble, Christian family in the 
hush of a Sunday afternoon. 
How all hearts flow together like 
the mingling of mountain brooks. 
There is an absence of all re- 
straints except those which naturally spring from 
the relationships of life. Such a home, at such a time, 
seems like a foretaste of Paradise. The Porter house- 
hold that quiet afternoon was permeated by a spirit 
of restfulness, which seemed almost heavenly. What 
is it that frequently leads a homeless child to select 
its own new father and mother? Is it instinct, or is it 
the influence of a guardian angel? The author recalls 
twice where an orphan boy threw his arms about the 
neck of a childless man, and asked in pleading tones, 
“You’ll keep me, won’t you?” Little Mabel asks no 
questions, but clings to Mrs. Pauline Porter as a 
vine to an oak. She read the heart of the child. 
Towards evening she speaks to her husband, saying : 

“This little bird seems so happy in her new-found 
nest, I haven’t the heart to let her leave it. You 



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117 


remember my youngest sister had a blind eye, and 
we loved her the best of any of our family. I seem 
to hear her voice calling to me from the spirit-land, 
saying, for my sake keep the little half-blind, mother- 
less girl.” 

“Pauline, you have my consent, but you know 
one good turn deserves another, and if you are will- 
ing, I would like very much to take little Oliver too. 
It was a grand thing to straighten his crooked limb, 
and to show what can be done for a club-footed boy 
I would like to take him into our home and hearts.” 

His wife replied, “I will be glad to do it, if the 
rest of the family approve.” 

“I will ask them,” says her husband. 

Calling them all together, he says: “Mr. Davis, 
my wife and I would like to adopt both Mabel and 
Oliver. You see our home, you have doubtless 
learned our character, and our ability to provide for 
them and give them an education.” 

This is his reply: “From a remark made by Grace 
I anticipated you might ask me for a child or two, 
and so I have made diligent inquiry, in a confidential 
way, of a few reliable people who have long known 
both of you, and as a result my answer is ready. Do 
not be offended, please; we must be very careful 
about a new home, and must ask your neighbors 
about your fitness for this holy service. I will be 
very glad to commit the children to your keefljng, 
and may God reward you for giving them cups of 
cold water in His name.” 


118 


Grace Porter; 


“Grace, what have you to say?” 

“Dear papa, I have long wanted to have you take 
more little children. I should think everybody would 
want to do this. How often mamma used to tell me 
that verse about ‘Inasmuch/ A brother and a sister ! 
What splendid Christmas presents they will be. Of 
course I want them. Mr. Davis, when can you bring 
Oliver ?’ 

“Let me see, I will go back to the office Tuesday, 
and will send him Wednesday.” 

“Good! I’ll count the hours till he comes,” said 
the delighted girl. So saying, she went over to her 
mother’s chair and threw her arms about Mabel, who 
will now be her sister evermore. 

“This is the Amen corner I am in,” said John. 
“How nice it will be for papa and mamma to have 
company when Grace and I are both away at school. 

“Ruth, you have a vote on this question too,” says 
Mr. Porter. 

She sweetly replies, in a voice hushed almost to a 
whisper, “I should say that if you do this, you will 
be laying ‘gold, frankincense and myrrh at His feet.’ 
I have had a vision revealing to me, as I believe, my 
life work. This has been a wonderful day to me. It 
is now my purpose, as soon as I can after I graduate, 
to give myself to the work of the Children’s Home 
Society. I made that resolve when Mabel stood on 
the pulpit, and Mr. Davis was telling about her dying 
mother. To save a motherless child is, I think, a 
nobler thing than to sit on a throne.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


119 


“I am not surprised,” said Grace. She knew 
Ruth’s heart-life. 

“We will be at your service, Ruth, at any time we 
can help you,” says Mr. Porter. 

“Before I ask mother her opinion, I wish to say 
that my study of the problem of dependent children 
has led me to three conclusions, which I will give 
in order. First, I think it would have been possible, 
always, as soon as any part of the country was fully 
settled, villages built and good farms opened, to 
secure good family homes for all dependent children 
who are sound in mind and body. This, I say, could 
have been done for decades of years in the past, had 
one-tenth of the money spent on the big buildings 
been used to bring the home and the child together. 
For this class it is doubtful if an Orphanage ever 
was necessary; at least, ever since civilization took 
the place of barbarism. Little hearts have always 
yearned for mothers and mother hearts for children, 
and they might always have been united and made 
to beat as one. 

“Second, I learn there are many more homes of 
intelligence, character and property where they are 
anxious to care for a little child, than there are 
dependent children.” 

“Is that true, Mr. Davis?” 

“It is, sir ! Our Society is not limited by the want 
of good homes, nor by the want of money, for there 
is always money enough to support any worthy char- 


120 


Grace Porter; 


ity. Our only handicap is to get bright children out 
of Institutions. When I see how the Management 
hold on to them, I always think of Budge and Toddie 
in Helen’s Babies.” 

“I want to shee yours watch,” said Toddie. When 
his uncle wished to know the reason, Budge said, “I 
want to see the wheels go ’round” ; and Toddie (who 
was his brother’s echo) replied, “Want to shee wheels 
go wound.” 

“But,” said Mr. Porter, “(and this is what I started 
to say), I am very glad to take these two children 
with the hope of extending this social revolution, 
until many like these, belonging to the defective 
class, may be brought to enjoy the blessings of the 
home-life. I sincerely hope that what we do now 
may become common in the early years of the cen- 
tury at whose opening gates we are standing. Mother, 
excuse me for talking so long. What say you? Which 
way does duty lie?” 

“By all means take them,” said Mrs. Porter, “and 
that will, so to speak, round out the family. You 
took Grace positive, you took John comparative, take 
these two and that will be superlative. You see how 
it works — good, better, best. I could wish, my son, 
that you, like me, had a dozen; that would enlarge 
your heart and life; but these four will give you a 
complete family.” 

“What do you mean by a complete family, 
mother?” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


121 


“Why, these children will now all have a father 
and mother. Besides that, each boy will know a 
brother’s as well as sisters love; and each girl will 
have the joy of a sister’s as well as brothers love. 
Father, mother, brothers, sisters — that completes a 
family.” 

“Not without you, grandma,” said Grace. 

“I have only one request to make, David. I wish 
you would call this boy Mark, in memory of your 
father.” 

“What say you, Pauline?” 

“It is well,” she said. 

“Mr. Davis, the vote is unanimous. Send us the 
boy on Wednesday by the afternoon train.” 

“It shall be as you wish.” 

Then David Porter, who was standing beside his 
mother’s chair, gently put his arms about her neck, 
and, bending, kissed her tenderly. 

Mark reached them safely, and now will never be 
a cripple in body, mind, or heart. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Story of a Victim to Drunkenness. 

Lei us do what we can. Let us not he seeking some high 
position; but let us get down at the feet of the Master , and he 
willing to let Ood use us — to let Him breathe His Spirit upon us 
and send us out to His work If you can't he a lighthouse , you 
can he a tallow candle . — Andrew Murray. 

friends/’ said David Porter the 
next time they met under the 
elms, I shall call at once for the 
reading of a story by a friend 
from St. Louis. She is herself 
the teacher mentioned in the nar- 
rative. I have asked for this story to show you the 
chief cause of homelessness among children.” 

Miss Dickson at once responded to this invitation. 

“We are trying to keep a ‘candle burning on a 
candlestick’ in one of the darkest wards in our city — 
a place that comes pretty near being a social mid- 
night. A few friends founded there a Mission Sun- 
day-School. The children are poor, ragged and 
ignorant. It takes a good deal of tact to keep these 
boys from repeating the fights they have on the 
streets. Very much of the seed falls in stony places, 
and the fowls of the air (bad habits) carry away more. 
But, thank God, some of it grows. 

“One day there came a little girl, who did not 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


123 


seem like the rest at all. Her clean face, in this 
unwashed crowd, at once arrested attention. I felt 
instinctively that here was a treasure hid in the great 
world-field, and I must find it and bring it to my 
Lord. 

“ ‘What is your name, little girl?’ 

“ ‘Emma,’ she quietly answered. 

“Her interest in the story of dying love grew rap- 
idly — seemed to absorb her mind and heart. As 
might have been expected, she was the first to own 
j£sus as her Saviour. She just seemed to feed on 
the Scriptures, as the Jews fed on ‘manna in the wil- 
derness.’ We hoped she might in time become a 
gleaner in the harvest-field. But this was not to be. 
One day she was absent. This meant that she could 
not come. I was very much alarmed about her. As 
soon as I could get away I hurried to find her. Down 
an alley and up a rickety stairway; past a saloon on 
the ground floor — foul with profanity, filthy speech 
and tobacco smoke — at last I reached the wretched 
little room. Emma is alone, lying groaning with pain. 

“ ‘What ails you, dear; what has happened?’ 

“ ‘I am hurt,’ she said very low and quietly. 

“ ‘But who hurt you, child?’ 

“ ‘It was father. He wanted me to go and bring 
him beer, and I couldn’t do it any more, for I am 
Jesus’ little girl now. Then he swore at me so dread- 
fully, and threw me downstairs.’ 

“Some children had found her in the hall-way, and 


124 


Grace Porter; 


carried her to her room, where for long hours she had 
suffered alone, without care or food or water. 

“I brought a doctor as soon as I could. His exam- 
ination revealed a limb out of joint, and the little 
back was broken. There is no room for hope. It is 
only a question of days. 

“Under threat of arrest, the saloon-keeper down- 
stairs gives me ten dollars, and in an ambulance 
Emma is carefully borne to a hospital. About the 
same time an officer arrests the drunken father in a 
saloon not very far away, on a charge of ‘killing his 
child/ After a short trial the father is sentenced to 
ten years in State Prison. 

*“In the hospital the poor, dying child has a wealth 
of care and love. I think nurses in our hospitals 
rank with noble grandmothers as the two most 
angelic classes on earth. Their very faces are 
seraphic. Emma soon comes to know that she can- 
not live, and wants to go to heaven. She does not 
like to think of her father ; can not bear to hear about 
him. She is willing to forgive him, but does not want 
to see his face. She loves to think of her mother. 

“ T was very little/ said Emma, ‘when she died'. 
I remember that my father beat her when he was 
drunk.’ (Oh, horrible memory for a child.) 

'“What did she do?’ 

“ ‘Oh, she just took me in her arms and cried.’ 

“Her great longing, during the few painful days 
of her life, was to have a doll. The only ones she 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


125 ' 


had ever had were made by herself, out of bits of rags. 
Her eyes had feasted on pretty ones in the shop win- 
dows, but all the money went for beer. There was 
none left to delight the heart of the child. She 
revealed to me all that was in her heart. One day 
I told the Sunday-School about the wish of poor 
little Emma. 

“ ‘We’ll buy her one,’ said the children. 

“Many of them, like the poor widow of whom 
Jesus told, gave all they had. As a result, some of 
them would have no bed that night. Greatness of 
soul is often found among the boys of the street. 
Quite a pile of pennies, nickels and dimes lay on my 
desk. It was an acceptable offering to the Lord, for 
they were cheerful givers. I added what I could 
spare and bought the best doll I could find, at a 
large discount. When I laid it beside her she was 
delighted beyond expression. 

“ ‘Can this be mine, all mine?’ she said, in a loud 
whisper. 

“It seemed too good to be true. After a little she 
laid her plans to take it to Heaven with her, fearing, 
as she said, ‘there might not be any there.’ 

“I was not there when the bird-soul winged its 
flight from the poor, broken cage. 

“Calling shortly after, I found the doll clasped in 
her little arms; her last thought evidently was to take 
it with her to Heaven. 

“Years after the father came to see me. In the 


126 


Grace Porter; 


prison Jesus met him as truly as he did Saul on the 
Damascus road, and with the same result. Said he: 
‘I just believed the Lord would save me, and He did/ 

“Now he is doing Christian work among his old 
comrades — making up by zeal what he lacks in learn- 
ing. His hope and prayer is that his wife and child 
will ‘not be afraid of him’ when he meets them on the 
other side. 

“By what strange pathways many will enter into 
life! 

“ ‘These are they which came out of great tribula- 
tion, and have washed their robes and made them 
white in the blood of the Lamb/ ” 

******* 

Tears stood in many eyes when this little story 
was finished, and discussion followed concerning the 
terrible ruin caused to families by the drink habit. 

Of this, however, no record was kept. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


The Chief Cause of Homelessness. 

One drinkinp saloon in a community means rags and 
misery for some of its people , and Sixty Thousand Saloons 
in the nation mean rags and misery multiplied Sixty 
Thousand times. Universal happiness and peace cannot 
exist in the same land with the saloon any more than peace 
and safety can exist in a sheep-fold when a wolf has entered 
it. — C. A. Stoddard. 

friends,” said David Porter at 
the next meeting, “we were all 
greatly touched by the pathetic 
story of little Emma and her 
cruel death. It gave us a reve- 
lation of a terrible truth. It 
shows us the Upas tree that shakes down its deadly 
fruit, in almost every community. 

“If you will pardon me (it seems to be expected 
that I will lead in the discussion) I will give you the 
result of my study. It is always wise when a ship is 
wrecked to find the rock or reef that caused the dis- 
aster, and if possible, build a lighthouse there. What 
causes the ship-wreck of so many homes? What is 
the name of the sunken reef on which these homes are 
daily driven and broken? And why are we called to 
gather up, as we walk on the beach, their terrible 
wreckage of life and love? I answer, without fear of 
challenge — the American Saloon. I am aware our 



128 


Grace Porter; 


industrial conditions are not the best. I know some 
would say that the workman is underpaid, and this 
drives him to drink. This doubtless has a baneful 
influence; but still I feel the liquor traffic is the chief 
enemy of the home. I have noticed that the man 
who carries his wages, however small, to his wife and 
children, keeps the little birds in the home nest, but 
if the wages go into the saloon, the family will soon 
be broken up. When will our workingmen learn the 
truth of the old adage, ‘You can’t eat your cake and 
keep it, too.’ Hear me, oh, my brother! (I now 
speak to the toilers of the world.) The dimes you 
push across the counter to pay for what will poison 
your brain and palsy your hand will be gone forever. 
They ought to buy a dress for your wife and bread 
for your children — but they never will. Oh, for the 
love of God, my friend, in the name of hope and rea- 
son, I implore you to turn the prow of your family 
ship, lest you strike the awful reef, and home and wife 
and children shall be to you forever lost. The men who 
are finding family homes for the homeless children 
tell us that most of these little waifs are unloved and 
hungry because of the drink that wrecked the home. 
Sometimes the apparent cause is divorce; but this 
was the result of drunkenness. Sometimes their 
unhappy condition is due to desertion; but drink 
had drowned their parental love and made desertion 
possible. Sometimes early death of parents throws 
orphans on the hands of charity. A few questions 
will reveal the truth that the parent died before his 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


m 


time — he was slain by the Giant Drink. Alas, alas! 
that our streets should be lined with the dens of 
Bluebeard, and that society should permit him to 
crush out the life and hope of millions. If this evil 
increases and the King gets drunk (we, the people,, 
are his majesty), what will become of the nation? A 
place where the brain is poisoned, the body is pol- 
luted, virtue is bartered and crime is taught, is surely 
the cavern of death, from which blow the fierce winds 
that threaten to dash our National Temple into a 
mass of ruins. This is an imminent danger. Where 
shall we look for safety? I have a hope that in the 
near future the intelligent moral citizenship of the 
nation will rise above partisanship, break away from 
the bondage of greed, and, recognizing that this evil 
is unpatriotic, with the single motive of keeping our 
flag from dishonor and saving the nation from death, 
shall smite this Giant on the neck with a Damascus 
blade, and once again David shall slay Goliath. 

“When I was a boy it was a common thing to hear 
of a bird that stole the nest of another. The robber 
bird has a stronger wing and a sharper beak. In this: 
way the mother is either slain or driven away, and 
the birdlings fall bleeding and dying to the ground. 

“Turn your thoughts from the desolate nest; re- 
call the story you heard about poor little Emma, and 
fix your mind on that ruined home in the attic. 
On the ground floor is the lurking place of the 
cruel bird. He invades the nest up under the roof. 


130 


Grace Porter; 


His victory is complete. When we look again the 
mother is slain, and the child lies bleeding at the foot 
of the stairs. Had there been no saloon down below, 
there would have been no broken hearts and limbs 
above. The most logical solution of the causes that 
led to the great strike and the resultant loss of life 
and property in Chicago a few years ago was given at 
the time by one of the leading newspapers. It said 
the names of the two responsible parties, those who 
bore the most guilt, were ‘Old Crow’ and ‘Sour 
Mash.’ 

“I said the saloon is unpatriotic. How can that 
be shown? A patriot seeks the highest virtue of all 
the people. Anything that arrests the growth of 
childhood into good citizenship, and lowers the 
standard of manhood so that we have less virtue and 
less intelligence among the people, must, without 
controversy, be lacking in patriotism. 

“I have only this to add,” said he. “It is evident 
that the American Saloon is a menace to the child 
and the home, and thus a terrible source of peril to 
the State and the Nation. Bunyan’s Pilgrim found 
that the lions lying beside his path were chained, but 
this lion is unfettered. Apoarently the man who sold 
this father the drink that made him a demon is 
particeps criminis with him, in the slaying of his child. 
And is there not, at least, a moral guilt resting on the 
community that permits such a waste of health and 
life? I confess I see no sure path of deliverance at 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


131 


present. While we wait for light, let us lift our voices 
to heaven and cry, day and night, 'Oh Lord! how 
long, how long.’ ” 

Jim Donahue remained after the rest had gone. 
Turning to him, Mrs. Porter said, “Well, Jim, how 
is the baby?” 

“Oh, foine as silk. I used to think there was no 
bye loike the little Apostle, but shure he's no match 
for our Dinnis. As a frind of moine used to say, our 
little bye is the 'only dint in the pan.' But Mary is 
having a good deal of bother about his mate. It is 
hard to find anything he will kape. This mornin’ I 
tould Mary some dirictions I saw in an ould paper. 
It read, 'As soon as the babby lets go of the bottle, 
unscrew its neck and lay it aside in a cool place. If it 
don’t agree with it, bile it.’ ” 

“Unscrew the neck of Dinnis?” said Mary; “shure, 
I won’t do that. Bile my little bye? Why, that 
would be murther, Jim.” 

“Donahue, you are the same wag you always 
were,” said Mrs. Porter. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Be Patient With the Boys. 


Patience is a virtue for which there ie no substitute. 
There is often no other way out of a difficulty than the way 
of patience. Nor is it a way which any one need be ashamed 
to take, for our Lord recommends it: “ In your patience, ye 
shall win your souls.” He knows that there is often nothing 
left to us but this one thing— patiertce . — Reformed Messenger. 



ESIDE the preceding Temperance 
, Story about little Emma, the 
only other notable address was 
that of Mr. Porter, given at the 
last meeting for the summer. 
“My friends,” said he, “you have 


learned, without doubt, about our taking two little 
children some months ago, who belonged to the 
defective class. This (presenting the boy) is our son 
Mark. He had a club foot, but now, you see, he can 
walk as well as any of us. And this is our youngest 
daughter, Mabel. As a result of poverty and neglect 
the sight of this right eye is completely lost. In three 
years, when she will be eight years old, we will take 
her to the hospital and have this replaced by an arti- 
ficial eye. We love them better because of their 
misfortune. There is in this case an added pity, and 
that strengthens affection. We are very glad we 
took them. They are sunbeams in our home. I have 
a hope that, by telling the public, many others may 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


133 


go and do likewise. It is my purpose to study this 
problem of defective children more fully, and, possi- 
bly at some future time, give you a full expression 
of my views. This evening, for the sake of a little 
variety, I will speak of delinquent children — I mean 
children of the class of Fred Campbell, the twin boy, 
of whom I told you before. You will remember he 
had not been taught the rights of others ; worse still, 
he had fallen under the influence of those who taught 
him to steal. There are thousands of children exposed 
to the same danger. Where shall we find a remedy? 
This boy, you see, has been saved through the influ- 
ence of the family. This, my friends, is God’s insti- 
tution, and any way different from it is not equal to 
it. I want to make this suggestion: Would it not 
be the part of wisdom not only to stop paying fees 
to zealous officers for racing little boys and girls 
into Penal Institutions, but in addition, let the Judge 
of any Court of Record (and nobody else) be liberally 
paid for placing the delinquent child himself, ami 
watching him, in a good family horde. This, l am 
persuaded, will cost far less money and save many 
more children. Our one aim should always be to 
build the Commonwealth, by withdrawing as many 
as possible from the lower strata and lifting them into 
the higher and purer walks of life. 

“This question of the best way to deal with delin- 
quent children is closely allied to that of dependent 
children. A poor family often lives for a time in a 


134 


Grace Porter; 


border-land between these classes. Something hap- 
pens. Perhaps the mother dies. The last strand of 
the rope is broken. The home is fallen. The children 
separate. One boy, who is found in the house, is 
taken by some friend, who, for the love of God and 
love of the child, carries him to some good family, 
and he is saved to the State. His brother, no* worse, 
is found on the street. He is arrested as a vagrant, 
perhaps the same day his mother’s coffin is laid in 
the grave, and hurried into a Reform School, where 
he is likely to be caught in the penal machinery, and 
lost to the State. Let us not congest any dangerous 
elements when it is possible to scatter them. As you 
would not add to a pile of apples already too large, 
so please do not add any more to the piles of boys 
and girls in Institutions; but take the better boys 
away from worse boys, and the better girls away from 
worse girls — for separation is the true philosophy and 
the only hope. 

“The Superintendent of one of our Voluntary 
Societies engaged in placing children in family homes 
told me he had a letter one day, asking him what 
steps must be taken to place two children in the 
Reform School, whose ages were five and seven 
years. (They could not be admitted under eight 
years, and I wonder if we would not have more good 
citizens if the age limit of admission was raised to 
sixteen years.) The Superintendent said to me, 
That letter made me mad. Handing it to one of my 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


135 


assistants, I said, “Please take the first train. If pos- 
sible, get these children released to our Society, and 
when the way opens, get them adopted by good 
families ; and I would like to kick the man that wrote 
the letter.” 5 

“To my mind,” said Mr. Porter, “his anger was 
justifiable. It was what the Bible calls ‘righteous 
indignation.’ The very proposition was an outrage 
to civilization. Just think of it, ye rational men and 
women! think of sending boys, in short pants, from 
a country town to learn crime from older boys — 
street arabs from the city! Of course, I cannot say 
positively; but not unlikely the writer of the letter, 
or some friend of his, wanted to use the Superintend- 
ent as a free bureau of information, that he, or his 
friend, might secure large fees for starting the boys 
on a career of crime. And, incidentally, let me say 
we should stop at once trying to make self-supporting 
any Penal Institution any more than we would a 
Blind Asylum. The good we reach is determined by 
the starting point. If we care for nothing but dol- 
lars we shall have, as a result, a great loss of man- 
hood. If redeemed men is what we seek, let us apply 
this philosophy to all prisons, for old and young alike. 
Ultimately it will prove to be economical. It will 
decrease the number of tax-eaters and increase the 
number of tax-payers. For a time we should suffer 
the loss of money. Which is most valuable to a State, 
my friends, money or manhood? I pause for a reply.” 

“Manhood !” answered the entire audience. 


Grace Porter; 


This was followed by a loud and long continued 
dapping of hands. Mr. Porter, who had been sit- 
ting, here arose and proceeded with great earnest- 
ness. “I implore you never to consent — nay, I will 
put it stronger, I beg of you to use all your influence 
toward keeping children out of Reform Schools — 
;(the very name is a misnomer) — or Industrial Schools 
— the same thing bearing another name. Only con- 
sent to their commitment when you have patiently 
tried everything else, again and again and again, and 
failed at last. Let that be the final resort. It is 
absurd to send a little boy to a Reform School simply 
because he stole some little things. Most little boys 
like to steal. This is a part of our native barbarism. 
Be patient with him. Teach him better. Don't put 
irons on his wrists; put your arms around his neck. 
Don't make him think Society is his enemy; make 
him feel you are his friend. Then he won't be willing 
•to throw his life away. Give him a dose of the ‘little 
red school-house.’ That will awaken his intellect and 
kindle aspiration. Send him to a Sunday-School. 
That will arouse his conscience. It is the best and 
cheapest Police Department on earth. These stand 
for reason; a Reform School represents little but 
force. 

“Surely we ought to treat a boy, at least, as 
rationally as we w^ould an animal. I once kept a 
favorite driving horse for nine years. He had only 
.one fault. When he saw some strange object before 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


137 


him on the road-side, he would stop, throw up his 
head, arch his neck, and erect his ears. Did I whip 
him? Never. That would have been cruel to the 
horse and dangerous to me. He was like these boys 
— not wilful, but ignorant. I always alighted from 
my carriage, and going to his head, patted him and 
told him he was safe. He would take a few steps and 
stop again. Then followed more patting and more 
reasoning. Sometimes I would put my face against 
his. That would always win, for then he knew I 
loved him. Alas! how many men there are who 
would kindly lead a horse past a stump, yet would 
try to whip a boy past temptation. The whipped 
boy, like the whipped horse, is likely to 'smash things’ 
and bring great harm to the State.” 

(Again the audience cheered the speaker.) 

Pausing a few moments, Mr. Porter began again. 

“That horse — how I would like to caress him now, 
but that can never be” (the tear-drops started down 
his cheeks as he spoke) “seems to have run away with 
me after all. 

“Let me go back to that statement that stealing is 
a part of our native barbarism, and that most little 
boys like to steal.” (A smile came into the face of 
the speaker.) “To prove this proposition,” said he, 
“I want every man in the audience who never stole 
anything to stand up.” 

Everybody began to laugh. A pause. 

“I am waiting,” said he. 


138 


Grace Porter; 


One man called out, “Why don’t you ask the 
women to rise?” 

Mr. Porter only smiled. “Well,” said he, “I am 
not going to be the only man on my feet.” He 
dropped into a chair amid roars of laughter. 

Rising, after a few moments, he said, “Of course 
I stole things when I was a boy, and so did you. We 
are all thinking of apples and watermelons. Some of 
you are likely thinking of green corn, the time you 
went out coon-hunting.” (A Governor present called 
out “turnips.”) “To be sure, we called it 'hooking/ 
but that is only another name for stealing. Remem- 
ber that people waited for us to come out of our 
native barbarism. They were patient with us. We 
were not railroaded to a Reform School. Let us be 
rational. Let us be grateful. Let us not be harder 
on boys now than people were on us in those long 
gone years. Let us prove that the rationale of our 
methods have advanced and not receded. We were 
redeemed by the love of the home. That will be 
the only safe way until the end of time.” 

Mr. Porter, sitting down, said, “I will be glad to 
answer any questions any of you may ask.” 

“I would like to inquire,” said a lady, “if in your 
judgment the State should abolish Reform Schools?” 

“No, but they should be revolutionized. There is, 
undoubtedly, a small percentage of children that have 
such a weak moral nature, they cannot be kept in a 
family long enough to work a cure. The patience of 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


139 


the family is unequal to the task. For these a place 
of detention is probably needed, where they may be 
taught a trade. While there they should be kept apart 
as much as possible, and then paroled as soon as it 
is safe. I would carry out the same idea as I have 
expressed before. You have heard me say I would 
not keep orphans to have an Orphanage ; so I would 
not keep delinquents to have a Reform School. The 
philosophy that purifies society is the same every- 
where. Congestion is a curse: dispersion is a cure. 
I hope to see the time come very soon, when every 
vestige of vindictiveness will disappear from our 
Institutions of every kind, for young and old. That 
will be the dawning of a brighter day for the com- 
monwealth and the Nation. 

“Just one thing more before we close this last 
meeting for the summer. Suppose our State Author- 
ities should succeed in placing its dependent children 
in worthy families, what do you think would be the 
best use to make of the vacant buildings? My own 
wish would be to see them equipped with surgical 
apparatus for making straight the crooked arms and 
limbs of children. That would relieve them from a 
life-long bondage and make multitudes leap and sing 
for joy. Private charity could hardly do this for the 
thousands that need it. This would be a rational 
work for the State. 

“An orthopedic surgeon told me a short time since 
that he once stood for half an hour and watched the 


140 


Grace Porter; 


people as they passed along; the street. He saw 
more than a dozen lame people, who might easily 
have been relieved, in their childhood — now it is too 
late. I would be delighted to see the State use some 
of its vacant buildings for such a beautiful charity. 
At small expense a world of good could be done. ’ 

A Professor from a Normal School, who has 
shown heroic courage in battling for an Institution 
for the feeble-minded, here arose and said, “Our 
Home for the Feeble-Minded cannot receive one-half 
of the children for whom application will be made. If 
the State should have any vacant cottages, out of 
which dependent children have gone into families, I 
would like very much to see them used for quickening 
the intellect of this benighted class. That would 
surely put a laurel crown on the brow of the State.” 

“Our time is nearly gone. Does anyone else wish 
to offer a suggestion?” said Mr. Porter. 

“Misther Porter,” said Jim Donahue, “I would 
suggist that the best use to make of thim big build- 
ings is to keep them impty. That will only cost the 
insurance, and once in a while a bit of paint. Fath, 
ye don’t have to shut up children jist because ye 
have thim big buildings. Shure, they seem to be 
yawning afther byes and girls, but Oi’d jist let thim 
yawn. Fath, it would break me heart and the heart 
of me Mary to see our bye Dinnis sint to sich a place. 
And Oi know the rist of yez feel jist loike mesilf. If 
thim big buildings are impty and must be put to 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


141 


some good use, shure Oi’d say to the Shtate, shtart a 
shugar beet factory .” 

The delighted audience clapped their hands at this 
sally of Irish wit and wisdom. 

“Donahue, we ought to give you a degree,” said 
Mr. Porter, “for you are the greatest philosopher of 
us all. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, as a token of our love for 
you, my mother, wife and daughters wish to present 
each of you a bouquet of flowers they have grown 
themselves. Please follow them to the veranda. We 
hope to see you all again next year, and may ‘the 
Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent 
one from another/ ” 

P. S. — Since writing this Chapter the author has 
visited a Boys’ Reform School. He asked the Super- 
intendent what he expected when boys staid there 
until their majority. “The most of them will be 
criminals,” he replied. “When you place boys on 
parole in good families, what do you anticipate?” 
“Most of them,” he answered, “will be good citizens.” 





GRACE PLEADING FOR THE SONGSTERS 


CHAPTER XX. 


Growing Into Beauty. 

Take what you believe and are and hold it in your hand 
with new firmness as you go forward; but as you go, holding it , 
look on it with continual and confident expectation to see it open 
into something greater and truer .— Phillips Brooks. 


r O more years have brought their 
lights and shadows into human 
life and have been written on the 
roll of history. Grace follows the 
college when it removes to the 
city, and there, joining interests 
with another, it becomes Milwaukee-Downer. 

Ruth Willard, having graduated, has gone out of 
her room, but will always be a part of her life. Ruth 
is devoting her time largely to charity work, bringing 
ragged boys and girls from the lanes and alleys into 
the Free Kindergartens. She still cherishes the plan 
she revealed at the Porter fireside, more than three 
years ago. The Disciples waited in Jerusalem until 
“endued with power.” Ruth wants to be fully 
equipped before she enters the responsible work of 
the Children’s Home Society. Waiting is often time 
gained instead of lost. Even now she is learning 
useful lessons — lessons which all laborers for children 
must some time learn. Every day reveals to her the 
social evils resulting from a crowded population. She 



144 


Grace Porter; 


has had many object lessons in child nature. In this 
way she has stored away much useful knowledge that 
never can be written in books. She has another rea- 
son for waiting. Her parents, though this charity 
commends itself to them as one resulting in the high- 
est benefits to the child, the family and the State, are 
yet very reluctant to have her make the sacrifice. 
They see that this work falls under the general prin- 
ciple, viz., “to save any class you must put yourself 
in their place.” This law is universal. We call it vicar- 
iousness. Christ became a man to save humanity. 
John Howard spent a good deal of his life in prison 
that he might bring joy to the prisoner. Florence 
Nightingale left her charming home and endured the 
hardships of the Crimean campaign, that she might 
relieve the wounded and dying. The sweet ministry 
of Clara Barton confirms this universal law. The 
men and women who gather up the stray lambs and 
carry them in their arms to waiting shepherds and 
shepherdesses, are wanderers. Having attractive 
homes, they make themselves homeless to rescue the 
homeless. 

Mr. and Mrs. Willard saw all this clearly and were 
doubtful if Ruth should make this sacrifice. Ruth 
waited for enduement and her parents’ consent. Both 
will come. Only wait with patience. Like your 
namesake, you will some day glean many golden 
sheaves from earth’s broad harvest field. 

As the Willards live in the city, Grace comes to 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


145 


their home as often as her faithful discharge of duty 
will permit. Arthur Willard has been to Ruth very 
much the same kind of confidential brother as John 
has been to Grace. It is a beautiful thing to see 
brothers and sisters who are lovers also. She should 
gain courage from him, and he should learn gentle- 
ness from her. Arthur, who is two years older thari 
Ruth, is a junior member of a large manufacturing 
firm. Ruth has one sister and two brothers, younger 
than herself. The Willard home, like that of David 
Porter, was sweet with the atmosphere of Christian 
life and love. The family should be like an apple- 
orchard, each tree aromatic with a wealth of pure' 
white blossoms in spring-time, and loaded with rip^ 
fruit in the autumn. When the Christian home and 
Christian College combine their culture, the resultant 
ought to be, and usually is, a regal man or woman; 
Grace has made the most of her opportunity. She 
has not simply been diligent in her studies, but all 
her mental powers have been energized so that the 
intellect “walks on its high places.” In the small 
Colleges the personality of the Professor is more 
potential than is possible in the great Universities. 
As Plato was a second edition of Socrates, so Grace, 
being in a small class, received the full benefit of this 
power of individuality. Education is not so much a 
storing away of facts, as a development of the mental 
forces for mastery of all knowledge and every king- 1 
dom. Better still, the evolution of her moral nature 


146 


Grace Porter; 


had kept pace with the growth of her intellectual 
powers. She knew science. She loved God. Her 
speech and manner alike revealed her posssession of 
those gifts and graces which are the greatest charm 
of her sex, and which have their best expression in 
that royal word — womanliness. 

It is now the month of June. Commencement day 
is at hand. The Porter family, all except grandma, 
arrive the day before. She sends her love and bene- 
diction. Of course, they are guests of the Willard 
family. Plymouth church is crowded to the doors. 
The essay of our heroine reveals, as in a glass, the 
depths of her loving nature. Snatched from death 
herself, she would shield, as best she could, every 
living creature exposed to harm. Every nerve and 
artery seems to throb with sympathy. John, Mark 
and Mabel were very proud of their sister. Surely, 
a pride like theirs is sinless. David and Pauline 
Porter were thinking gratefully of that day when 
they first folded her in their bosom and called her 
Grace, because she was the gift of God. They have 
their reward. 

To please the reader, we will give her graduation 
essay in the next chapter. 

Tears stand in the eyes of her father and mother 
when Grace finishes. There is, besides, a beautiful 
light on their faces. “Their smiles wept and their 
tears smiled.” After congratulations, Grace and her 
double — not in face, but in heart — walk to the home 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


147 


of Ruth together. Reader, watch them as they pass. 
The whole city could not show you two brighter jew- 
els of womanhood. Now recall their history. Ruth was 
born into a good family: Grace, by adoption, came 
into one equally as good. Here are the results. 
Environment has done its perfect work. Behold the 
victory of fatherhood and motherhood! Does some 
one mention heredity? Who can say but that of 
Grace is as good, or even better, than that of Ruth? 
What is heredity? Who can explain its influence, or 
trace its pathway? There are two streams converging 
at the birth of everv child. Go back a generation, 
and four more streams are added. Which of these 
six ancestors will stamp the life of the child? Hered- 
ity is a forest full of winding paths, where everybody 
loses himself. Environment is an open field where 
you can mark the growth of every plant and the 
blooming of every flower. “He who runs may read” 
this truth — good citizens are the evolution of good 
homes — the best citizens are the evolution of the 
best homes. 

Toward night Arthur Willard and Grace Porter 
are seen walking together along the winding paths 
of Lake Park. When they enter the Willard home 
at sunset each face is illumined by a look of joy. 
What was said that day only the summer winds could 
tell. On the early train next morning the Porter 
family go back to the old farm-house. 


CHAPTER XXL 


A Plea for Our Birds — By Grace Porter. 

There the thrushes 
Sing till latest sunlight flushes 
In the west. 

— Rossetti. 

HAT would the world be without 
song? Destroy its music, and 
life would lose its inspiration, and 
its very soul. Let melody be 
hushed and the musician be 
silenced, and all the beauty of 
existence will be lacking. But far more wonderful 
than man’s song or story is the voice of nature’s 
children, the songsters of the treetops, the angels of 
the forest. Without these tiny creatures the spring- 
time would lose its glory, the summer its crown. The 
winged splendor and celestial melody of these artists 
of the air have inspired the genius of painters and 
stirred the hearts of poets. What creature of earth 
or air is more wonderful, more beautiful, more glori- 
ous than the singing bird? 

Have you ever been awakened by the gentle tap- 
ping of a robin on your window pane? Listen to the 
merry strain of morning greeting! Does he not say, 
Cheer up! Cheer up! Then, joined by a crowd of 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


149 


comrades, he pours forth his very soul in a strain of 
cheerfulness and contentment; the ardor increases, 
the chorus swells, until a host of sweet musicians 
break forth into a very symphony of song. 

To watch the life and habits of a bird is most inter- 
esting. How careful he is in the selection of a site 
for his residence ; how assiduously he builds the snug 
little nest; how jealously he resents all interference 
in this construction. And what can surpass the ten- 
derness and affectionate care of the mother-bird, as 
she guards her little ones from any approach of friend 
or foe? How distrustfully she eyes all advances; how 
piteous are her cries when some cruel giant disturbs 
her quiet home, and steals from her her dear ones. 
Where is the heart so hard, or the hand so ruffianly, 
that its owner will rob a bird’s nest? How funny and 
pathetic are the struggles of the little ones as they 
trust their feeble wings for the first time to the treach- 
erous air. How ardent the efforts of their parents tp 
teach them the A B C’s of that lesson, which will at 
last lead him into the heavens. These are the most 
familiar traits of our feathered friends, but no less 
wonderful because familiar. 

One of the most marked characteristics of a bird 
is his quick and refined instinct. No foe will pass his 
keen scrutiny undetected ; no friend will long remain 
unknown. This gift is furthered by fine intelligence. 
Almost human is the birds understanding. Tricks 
of fun and fancy mark their daily life; they have a 


150 


Grace Porter; 


sense of humor and of sympathy ; they know how to 
become impatient and to quarrel ; they know how to 
restore peace and ask forgiveness. A student of 
bird-life is taught by never-ending lessons; before 
these little imitators his own life stands reflected as 
in a mirror. 

The bird’s most prominent virtue, however, is his 
innocence. True, these tiny creatures have their 
faults. The robin and the bluebird are destructive; 
the swallow is noisy and disagreeable. But recall the 
words of Whittier, “How like are birds to men,” and 
you will forgive these faults. Yet even the birds 
imperfections are overcome by his greater usefulness. 
Aside from his gift of song, he is a most practical 
factor in the economy of nature. Nearly every plant 
and tree that grows swarms with insect life, which 
preys upon its foliage and threatens its very existence. 
But no flying or crawling creature can escape the 
sharp eyes nor the horny beaks of the little birds, who 
find their living there. Working busily from morning 
till night, they are the very protectors and preservers 
of our vegetation. A great Frenchman says that 
“were it not for the birds, human beings would perish 
from the face of the earth.” However true this may 
be, it is certain they are friends to be valued, honored 
and cherished. 

But towering above every other faculty or gift is 
the birds wonderful power of song. Listen to the 
sweet-voiced thrush, the bird of solitude, the king of 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


161 


melody. Nature possesses few sounds so sweet, so 
pure, so serene, as his gentle notes. Flutes and 
flageolets are Art’s poor efforts to recall that softer 
tone. It is simple, but very wonderful. It might be 
the prayer of a seraph; it might be the Angelus of 
some lost Convent. It is a sound so marvelously 
sweet that it seems like the very music of heaven. 
God has entrusted to his tiny creatures a gift so 
matchless that we are amazed before its power. 

Is not then the bird-life wonderful? Is it not a 
thing to be guarded, cherished and held as sacred? 
Yes! say the bird-lovers; but from the world without 
comes a deep voice of protest. The man must have 
his amusement; the woman must satisfy her vanity; 
the collector must further the interests of Science. 
And so the gentle songsters are decreasing! and so 
the sweetest music of nature is perishing! Why? 
Listen for your answer to the sound of the rifle in 
wood and forest. Go nearer, and see the gentle flut- 
tering wings, the heaving breast, the bright eyes 
closed in a martyr’s death. Can you then congratu- 
late the marksman? Can you tell him he is a “good 
shot”? Many hunters have confessed a return to 
their better selves as soon as the prize was won. In 
what does this short-lived madness differ from the 
sudden passion which impels one to lift his hand 
against a brother-man? And what of the collector, 
who proudly displays his hard-earned trophies — the 
fair white eggs, the quaintly dotted Curios? Has he 


152 


Grace Porter; 


not taken life? And he who imprisons the joyous, 
flying creatures, and shuts them up within hard walls, 
against which the fluttering wings are flung in vain— 
what shall we say of him? Can he deny the bird’s 
inalienable right to “life, liberty and the pursuit of 
happiness?” Oh, that we might not descend to harm 
those weaker than ourselves ! Oh, that this world had 
more humanity and more heart! 

At last, after years of suffering and torture, the 
bird is finding friends. The pigeon-shoot, for many 
years the horror of humane people, is on the wane, 
and artificial birds are now used to satisfy the desire 
for sportsmanship. Public sympathy is gradually 
being awakened, and the bird is better protected and 
cherished. 

But still the sweet songster is not safe. Every 
year, in vast parks filled with shade trees, with every 
condition perfect for their attraction, thousands of 
these tiny creatures are decoyed. The trees are cov- 
ered with, pitch ; the bird is entrapped and held, until 
a brutal hand shall tear it from its prison, put out 
,.the sight from its eyes, and destroy its sweet life of 
song. And for what is this vast waste of God-granted 
life? Ah, alas! for womanhood. It is to satisfy her 
vanity. It is that the poor, dead body may shine 
among her tresses: — that its gay plumage may enliven 
the creations of her milliner. Every year five million 
birds must be caught to satisfy the caprice of Amer- 
ican women. In one month a million bobolinks were 


A Jewel Lost and F.ound. 


153 


killed near Philadelphia. In Florida the mother birds 
are shot upon their nests, while they are rearing their 
young, because at that time their plumage is prettiest. 
After pitiful, unavailing cries the little ones must per- 
ish. If a bird’s body is not wanted, the wings are 
torn from its quivering body, and the suffering, tor- 
tured bird is left to die a painful death. What a dis- 
grace to our womanhood! How can she enjoy the 
beauty bought at such a price? How can she sanction 
such a fashion? It is sad enough to turn our mur- 
derous weapons against the gentle ox, who trusts us, 
in order that we may supply the needs of our body; 
but the indiscriminate slaughter of beautiful birds 
of song, simply to minister to a strange and barbar- 
ous fashion, is enough to make the most long-suffer- 
ing lover of nature cry out in grief and pain. 

Let us go out into the woods and watch the pure, 
free, happy life of the little bird ; let us listen to the 
wonderful songs which he trills out of the depths of 
a joyful heart, and then let us ask ourselves again 
the question, Shall such a life be slain for me? When 
we have settled this question for right and for human- 
ity, then shall we attain to a nobler conception of 
Nature, and a higher communion with its God. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Pauline’s Prophesy Fulfilled — John Becomes a 
Soldier. 

Courage in danger is half the battle. — Plautus. 

’ Tis more brave 
To live than to die. 

— Owen Meredith. 

F OR a third of a century the United 
States enjoyed, in its fullest 
measure, the blessings of an un- 
broken peace. But now for many 
months, by looking toward the 
South, a careful observer would 
see a little warcloud, rising, as it were, out of the sea. 
Weeks pass. The cloud is larger : the cloud is blacker. 
A rumbling is heard. It is the voice of the thunder. 
A flash of light is seen. It is the lightning of conflict. 
The Nation waits with bated breath. Compromise 
is tried. All is vain. An honorable senator, who has 
visited Cuba, rises in his place, and addresses the 
American Senate. The Nation listens. In manner 
he is as unimpassioned as if giving an address on 
agriculture. This very self-restraint quadruples the 
effect produced. It is not the man, but the terrible 
facts, that are speaking. A wave of indignation rolls 
over the land. A feeling of horror seizes the nation. 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


155 


A cruel master is trampling on the prostrate form of 
a whole people. Slow and deliberate starvation is 
inflicted on helpless women and children by the hun- 
dred thousand. This is not war, but murder. The 
unavoidable happens. The captain draws his sword. 
The commodore calls his marines to quarters. No 
one is strong enough to chain “the dogs of war.” 
The feeling of brotherhood rules the hour. The bat- 
tleship Maine is destroyed by the explosion of a 
hidden mine. Scores of wounded sailors are strug- 
gling and dying in the waves. The authors of this 
dastardly deed are unknown. That does not change 
the effect. Peace is now impossible. A war for 
humanity is declared. The die is cast. 

It is a strange coincidence that most of our wars 
begin in the spring. Lexington is fought in April. 
April sees Fort Sumpter fall. The war with Mexico 
begins on the Rio Grande, in May. April 21st, 1898, 
the President declares war against Spain, in the name 
of humanity, for the freedom of Cuba. Seven days 
later Wisconsin sends three regiments of her trained 
militia to Camp Harvey. John Porter is a private 
soldier. The flag that waved above the school has 
stirred his heart. The study of his Country’s history 
has deepened his love for the flag. He drank in 
Patriotism, as from a fountain, in the home-life. 

April 22, at the Armory, the Captain says to his 
company, standing in line, “If the call comes I am 
going to the front. Who will go with me? Those 


15*3 


Grace Porter; 


who volunteer will stand in the ranks. The rest will 
step to the rear.” John, with most of the company, 
stood unmoved as a rock. He has crossed the Rubi- 
con — he will enlist. His resolution is known at the 
farm-house. It is a solemn moment. The parents 
recognize the danger that hides in the camp and 
walks openly on the battlefield. They regret the 
necessity, but recognize they should not object to 
have their son respond to what he thinks is a call to 
duty. Mr. Porter is planning to serve the State in 
the forum ; it would be inconsistent if he should inter- 
fere when his patriotic son desires to honor the State 
by service in the field. The hardest battle is fought 
in the inner chamber of the mother’s heart. John is 
the apple of her eye. But she has the spirit of Spar- 
tan motherhood, and after a night of conflict her 
patriotism prevails. The parents sign their consent 
that their minor son shall enlist for the service of the 
Nation. Though they would not confess it, even to 
themselves, both are proud of their manly boy. Mr. 
Porter says he will not forget the 28th day of April, 
1898, even if his life should be prolonged to a hun- 
dred years. 

About Eight O’Clock in the morning the bells in 
the village begin to ring. This is followed by the 
screeching of the factory whistles. It is the signal to 
gather at the Armory. The mother takes leave of her 
boy at the home. Mr. Porter declares that parting 
is lithographed in his memory. John is dressed in 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


157 


full uniform. He is a fine specimen of heroic young 
manhood. Standing near the door, he says, quietly, 

“Goodbye, mother.” 

She throws her arms about his neck. She is trying 
to be brave, but just for a moment her courage wav- 
ers. She was heard to say, “Oh, John, John!” It 
was the agonizing cry of the mother-heart. It lasts 
but a moment, yet it is long enough to make a reve- 
lation — a mother has (unconscious to herself) just 
a trace of extra tenderness for an eldest son. He 
stoops down and kisses her tenderly. She unlocks 
her arms and is calm again. Through the window 
she catches a glimpse of her patriot boy as he hastens 
to the Armory. The rest of the family (except 
grandma, who has given him her blessing) follow him 
to the train. Before noon the special pulls out of the 
great throng, the bells and whistles cease their din, 
and the people scatter to their homes. 

“Oi’m afther thinkin’,” said Jim Donahue to Mary, 
“Oi’d loike to go and help whip thim Spaniards. 
Yez remimber we were married on Indepindence day, 
and me heart always did bate for the ould flag. Our 
fathers fought and bled and died, and why shouldn’t 
we fought and bled and died?” 

“But phwat will become of Dinnis and me, Jim?” 

“Very loikely Oi’d be back in foive or six months. 
Thim Spaniards can’t shtand up before our byes very 
long. They haven’t larned much but Catechism, and 
shure that is no match for ’rithmetic. Our byes are 


158 


Grace Porter; 


intillisrent. They will fight for the opprissed, and the 
God of humanity is always on the soide of liberty. I 
shpoke to Misther Porter, and he will look afther the 
eighty, and will tell a hired man about the crops, and 
keep up the finces.” 

“But, Jim, they won’t want you in the ranks. They 
want young men.” ^ 

“I know that, Mary, but I will go and handle the 
tints, or drive a tame. Somehow, Oi feel in me bones 
that the little Apostle will need me, and you know 
how both of us love the bye. Betwixt me love for the 
flag, the love of me fillow-men and our love for John, 
Oi would loike to go, me darlint.” 

“Oi’ll be very lonely, Jim, and so will Dinnis ; but 
fath, Oi’m proud of me brave man.” 

Jim went with John on the special train to Camp 
Harvey. 

The stay of the regiment at Camp Harvey was 
very brief. They were hurried to Camp Thomas, 
Chickamauga Park, Georgia. 

It is now evident to everyone that there was too 
much haste, and too much crowding. The result 
might have been foreseen. The great enemy of all 
armies, in all history, has been typhoid fever. This 
smites the strong and athletic, as it were, with the 
breath of Sirocco. It is only a brief time until the 
tidings of epidemic and death fly to the North-land. 
It is a summer of terrible anxiety. It seems for a 
time as if John’s regiment will never do anything in 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


159 


the field except drill and die. But in July an expedi- 
tion is organized for Porto Rico, and his Regiment 
is hurried to Charleston, South Carolina. 

Dewey, with his brave seamen, has destroyed one 
fleet at Manila, the ist of May, and a second Spanish 
fleet has just followed in the path of disaster at San- 
tiago. It is believed that the capture of Porto Rico 
will end the war. 

John makes a rapid march with his regiment to 
Ringold. Jim has charge of their “tints.” A special 
train takes them to the seaboard. 

The regiment remains several days in Charleston, 
waiting for the transports. With the rest, he endures 
that terrible practice march for miles over cobble- 
stones, under the burning sun of July. Parents up 
North will never quite understand how a sun-stroke 
in Charleston could fit their boys for better service in 
Porto Rico. John is quite overcome by the heat, but 
he is brave and keeps his place in the ranks. Now 
their waiting is ended — they are aboard, and pass 
famous old Fort Sumpter. Here the first guns were 
fired in the war of the Rebellion. The memory stirs 
their patriotism deeply. For many days they are out 
of sight of the land. Ice and medicines are very 
scarce. There is a great deal of suffering. Many are 
down with fever — some are dying, and some are Head. 
Who shall say it is not as patriotic to face death in 
a hospital, or on the deck of a ship, as it is to do the 
same thing on the battle-field? 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Donahue and Pauline Save John’s Life. 


The love of a mother is never exhausted ; it never changes , 
it never tires . — Washington Irving. 



ORTO RICO is reached and the 
anchor is cast. The Spaniards 
flee before the Regiment lands. 
The natives are friends instead of 
foes. Our soldiers are pelted 
with flowers instead of bullets. 


One night Jim strolls into John’s tent. Their duties 
keep them apart most of the time. 

“I’m glad to see you, my old friend,” says John. 
“I wish we could be more together.” 

“Fath, and that is jist phwat Oi’d loike. How are 
yez, me bye?” 

“I haven’t been very well, Jim, since that fearful 
march at Charleston.” 

“Jim, I had some letters from home to-day. It is 
so long since I heard from the dear ones, these just 
made me shout for joy.” 

“Was there any word from me darlints, Mary and 
Dinnis? Shure, me heart is as hungry as a grey- 
hound,” said Jim. 

“I have,” said John, “one from papa and another 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


161 


from Grace, with postscripts from Mark and Mabel. 
The best ones are from mother. Jim, I am just learn- 
ing the height and depth of her love. I find she is 
with me all the while, and if I am ever inclined to 
yield to these strong temptations of camp-life I seem 
to see a look of pain written on her face, and then I 
am a man again. 

“I will read some parts of her last letter. 

“ ‘My dear John : — There seems to be some trou- 
ble with the mails, and we have no word from you 
yet, except the card written just before you landed. 
My heart is so restless, I want to fly to my boy. I 
wonder if there can be a mistake in the geography, 
and if Porto Rico is not on the earth at all, but away 
off on some star. But I will try to possess my soul 
in patience, and see what to-morrow will bring. Mrs. 
Andrews was in. She is almost heart-broken. Hef 
brother was among our troops at Santiago, and is 
among the wounded — near the heart, the papers say. 

“ T went to church yesterday morning. It was 
too much for me. The pastor prayed fervently for 
our soldier boys. Then, for a voluntary, the organist 
played very softly, “Just Before the Battle, Mother.” 
I do not think many of the people knew the words, 
but they have been lingering for thirty-five years in 
my memory. My brother, who was a soldier in the 
war of the Rebellion, sent me the music-sheet from 
his camp. I hope the organist will not play it again ; 
it sets my heart a-bleeding. We are all well. Papa, 


162 


Grace Porter; 


Grace and the children have all written you lately. 
Little Dennis runs over every day to see if we have 
any word from you, and asks about his papa, who 
has “gone to whip the Spaniards.” He says his 
mamma is well. Papa says, “Tell Jim his crops are 
very fine; the hired man is taking good care of the 
farm, and he needn’t worry a bit about anything 
here. John, I almost believe’ ” — (Here John stopped 
and said, “Never mind about this.”) 

“Let’s have it, bye. If you don’t read it Oi’ll think 
something is wrong, and Oi’ll be in dreadful sus- 
pinse.” 

“Well, it wasn’t meant for you, Jim, but I guess 
it’s about the truth. Mother says, T almost believe 
it was a wish to see you get back safe that took Jim 
to the army. He is a noble fellow. If you should be 
sick, trust yourself to him and wire your mother, 
and she will come anywhere.’ ” (For once Jim was, 
as he would say, spacheless. Tears stood in his eyes.) 
“ ‘May God bless and protect you, my dear boy, is 
the prayer of, MOTHER.’ ” 

John’s regiment keeps slowly following the 
retreating Spaniards for several days, until the enemy 
makes a stand near Coamo. The marching is heavy, 
and the camp is deluged by rain. The Spaniards 
now occupy a position of great strength. Our picket 
line is strengthened. John is placed in the most dan- 
gerous part of the line, and discharges his duty like 
a veteran. He sees Swanson and Voight, of the 
Sparta Company, when they fall in death, struck by 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


163 


an enemy’s shell. He is waiting in line of battle with 
his regiment, when an officer, riding in haste, an- 
nounces the signing of the protocol of peace between 
the nations. The tidings come at an auspicious 
moment. Another day of waiting would have resulted 
in a terrific battle, with its awful roll of wounded and 
dead. The next day our soldier boy, with the ner- 
vous energy that results from the presence of danger 
now removed, yields to the insidious attack of 
typhoid, and lies in his tent, burning with fever. Jim 
goes at once to the commanding officer. Saluting, 
he tells his story. 

“Shure,” he said, “Oi love the bye as if he were 
me own. Oi’ve been watching over him since he was 
two weeks old, and me naybors would niver forgive 
me if Oi should niglect him now. Shure, Oi’ve set 
me heart on taking him home to his mother. Yez 
will not need either of us now to hilp aginst thim 
Spaniards.” 

His wish was granted. He at once impresses an 
old man, with a rickety little cart and a weary horse, 
into the service of Uncle Sam. Making John as com- 
fortable as possible, and walking beside him, they 
make the journey, by slow and painful stages, to the 
sea-shore at the port of Ponce. Fortunately, a trans- 
port is about to sail. Before night, the next day, they 
weigh anchor and are among the billows of the great 
deep. John is now delirious, and when awake, almost 
constantly talking about his home and mother. 


164 


Grace Porter; 


Again he is driving the dog-cart to school with Grace 
by his side. Sometimes he is talking to his father 
about the cattle; and anon he is telling some of his 
boyish troubles in the sympathetic ear of grandma. 

Jim places him in a hammock and watches him, 
day and night, as patiently as a mother watches her 
suffering babe. 

“Phwat do yez think about me poor, sick bye,” 
said he to the doctor? The physician shakes his head. 

“A very bad case. Only the best of nursing will 
bring him through.” 

“Shure, he'll get that while Donahue is able to 
shtand. Doctor, Oi must see the bye back in the 
ould home.” 

“If you ever do, it will be the result of your faith- 
fulness,” said the physician. 

For several days and nights Jim might truly have 
been called a guardian angel. He seems to be always 
beside the hammock. His ministry of mercy is as 
patient and tender as though he had been a woman. 

“Oh God,” he silently prayed, “shpare the poor 
sick bye so the hearts in the ould farm-house will 
not break intirely.” 

God hears the prayer of faith. “He healeth the 
broken-hearted.” John will live. 

The ship is nearing her harbor. The next day Jim 
has John borne carefully to a separate room in a hos- 
pital at Fortress Monroe. At once he telegraphs to 
David Porter. The answer is signed, “Mother,” and 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


165 


reads, “Buy John white roses for me. Will come 
first train.” 

Next morning-, when he wakens, a bunch of roses 
as white as the love of the heart that sends them, 
and their petals aromatic with the love of God, lies 
on a little table beside his pillow. The card, fastened 
to them by a dainty little ribbon, reads, “A present 
from your mother.” The grateful boy places them 
to his lips, and realizes her presence. A few tears of 
joy tremble over the lids, and roll down his cheeks. 
Not a word is said, as the patient must be kept quiet. 
Presently, with the trained nurse beside him, Jim 
in another room, waiting any call to any duty, and 
the roses touching his cheek as they lay on the pillow, 
he falls into a sweet and peaceful sleep. The crisis 
is past — the soldier boy will recover. 

As soon as the Limited will bring her, Pauline 
Porter reaches the hospital at Fortress Monroe. Soon 
after, by the doctor’s permission, she sees her son 
for a few moments. Two days later she releases the 
faithful Donahue and he hurries to his loved ones, 
waiting for him in the West. After a few days more 
the mother is permitted to sit beside her boy, for an 
hour at a time. In about three weeks they leave the 
hospital, and without any incident worthy of men- 
tion, reach their home in safety. A quiet spirit of 
joy, in which gratitude is the pre-eminent feature, 
pervades the household. Mark, taking Grace aside, 
whispers, “How much John looks like a mummy.” 


166 


Grace Porter; 


Considering the pinched features and the discolor- 
ment resulting from medicines and the climate, it is 
not very strange that the boy should think of the 
resemblance. 

John’s recovery is rapid. There is nothing like 
home t© paint roses on the cheek. 

****** 

The day after David Porter is elected to the Senate 
the family hold a conference. John reveals to them 
his desire to study medicine; that, as a thank-offer- 
ing to God for sparing his life, he wishes to devote 
his labors to the relief of his fellow-men. His parents 
give their full approval. Mr. Porter has a sister living 
at Beloit, Wisconsin. They agree that next fall he 
will make his home with this aunt, and spend two 
years in special studies at Beloit College. He will 
then take a full course at some Medical College, in 
Chicago. This winter he will take charge of the 
farm while his father goes to the Senate. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


The Senator from the XXXVth. 

Find out a law of nature and work along its lines /#r the 
improvement of man and success will crown your efforts. 

AVID PORTER has long aspired 
to a seat in the Senate of the 
State. He has diligently pre- 
pared himself to adorn the posi- 
tion. He is prompted by the 
highest motives. He longs to see 
more humanity crystallized into law. He desires, 
above all things, to see better methods in the admin- 
istration of Charity. He is, first of all, a noble citizen. 
He is, to a certain extent, a party man. He favors 
one party rather than others, because their platform 
declares for principles which his judgment approves 
as patriotic and moral. In local affairs he always 
votes for the best man. In State and National elec- 
tions he casts his ballot for the best principles. He 
always votes, and puts his conscience into the ballot- 
box. The time seems auspicious, and he quietly lets 
his friends and neighbors know that, while he will 
not battle for the nomination, he would feel it an 
honor to be their Senator. The public recognizes 
both his ability and his integrity. When the best 
citizens want a good man they get him. There was 



168 


Grace Porter.; 


no contest; the intelligent tax-payers know who 
they want, and make themselves heard. The trading 
politicians see the “hand-writing on the wall” and 
are silent. (Oh, that this silence might be perpetual !) 
Mr. Porter is triumphantly elected. He leads the 
ticket. Character and ability determine the result. 
This is in November, 1898. He will represent the 
thirty-fifth District. 

* * * * * 

A week after the opening of the Legislature, in 
January, 1899, Senator Porter rising, and being rec- 
ognized by the Lieutenant Governor, says, “I wish, 
Mr. President, to have read the following joint reso- 
lutions.” His paper was quickly carried to the Clerk’s* 
table, by a page, and then the President of the Senate 
said, “The Clerk will read the Joint Resolutions, of- 
fered by the Senator of the Thirty-fifth District. 

The Clerk read as follows : 

“Be it resolved by the Senate, the Assembly con- 
curring that the Joint Committee on Charities and 
Penal Institutions be and is hereby requested to form- 
ulate and present to the two houses, as soon as possi- 
ble, one or more bills designed to improve the condi- 
tion of all unfortunate classes ; and which shall empha- 
size the great underlying principles which ‘make for 
righteousness.’ 

1st. Let there be a recognition of the truth, writ- 
ten on the face of creation, that all human beings 
should, as nearly as possible, be placed in families. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


169 


2nd. Let us by law make it as difficult as we can 
to get children of sound mind and body into Institu- 
tions, and as easy as possible to get them out and into 
the best families. 

3rd. Let us signalize our entrance into the next 
century by the adoption of some efficient plan, which 
shall make it illegal and impossible that anybody, 
hereafter, shall be appointed to any position in any of 
our Charitable or Penal Institutions as a reward for 
political service.” 

The resolutions went over under the rule. A few 
days later, Senator Porter being recognized by the 
chair, spoke as follows: 

“Mr. President and fellow Senators ! I hope it will 
not be considered an improper thing for a new mem- 
ber to address you so early in the Session. If there 
be any such foolish precedent it should be disre- 
garded. If we are in sympathy with these Joint Reso- 
lutions we should so inform the Committee, as soon 
as we can, as they should receive very careful consid- 
eration before being enacted into law. 

“The first thing we should emphasize is that the’ 
family is the best place for all classes and conditions 
of men. Of course all changes recommended by me 
cannot be secured at once. We should, however, 
make a beginning without delay. Let us show our 
wisdom by conforming to the Creator’s plan. In my 
judgment we should substitute little cottages for the 
great institutions, where the State now confines the 


170 


Grace Porter; 


Insane. Then they could be separated into families. 
This would, without doubt, inure to their benefit, 
physically, mentally, and morally. 

“The family idea should also prevail to the fullest 
possible extent at the Reform Schools. The adop- 
tion of the parole system there deserves our approval, 
and we should encourage those in charge to extend 
and strengthen it to the largest practicable limit. And 
the delinquent children, who must remain in Reform 
Schools, ought to be separated into very small 
groups; and these classified with the greatest care 
and wisdom. Then in these little families let their 
hands as well as their heads be taught. Let their lit- 
tle hearts be captured by love. In a position like this 
we need a man whom the Creator has made expressly 
for the place. This work of redeeming boys and girls 
is holy work. The family idea could be introduced, 
I believe, to great advantage in our State Prisons — 
by enlarging the cells and have only two, or possibly 
three, work together in their cell. Here again the 
most careful classification will be indispensible. This 
family philosophy is not an experiment — it began 
with the race. Let us not close our eyes to what is 
best in creation. Let us catch the thought of the In- 
finite. Let, us, as nearly as possible, build the State 
on the divine plan. 

“Mr. President, I proceed to the second Reso- 
lution. 

“In this I feel a very special interest from the 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


171 


fact that we have received into our family four home- 
less children. These, though not a drop of our blood 
flows in their veins, are so dear to us that, rather than 
part with them, we would give up everything we 
possess in this world. We ought to make it as difficult 
as possible to put children like these we have adopted, 
in any Institution. We were childless. Thousands 
of families are blighted in the same way. These in- 
telligent, worthy families ought not to be deprived of 
a grand opportunity. Let these childless homes take 
these homeless children. It will save the child and 
ennoble the family. Only let the little ones follow the 
promptings of their nature, and the wee feet will take 
what we used to call a ‘bee line’ into some family. 

“Senators, let us be done with red tape. We did 
have a law that put a premium on shutting up chil- 
dren for the State to support. I believe an attempt 
was made two years ago to cut off the fees to local 
officers that used to be an irresistable temptation. 
Let us ask our Committee to strengthen this law, if 
it has been found too weak, so that the evil may be 
plucked up, root and branch.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 


Senator Porter Concludes His Speech. 

What a glorious future awaits us if unitedly , wisely and 
bravely we face the new problems now pressing upon us, 
determined to solve them for right and humanity. 


— Wm. McKinley. 



HAVE in mind a case where a 
Poor-master refused to let a 
good family adopt a bright little 
girl of six years, and then took 
the child himself to a State Insti- 
tution, to be a burden to the 


people of the Commonwealth. He took his wife with 
him. I saw them on the journey. They chose this 
time so that on their return they could stop over a 
day, and be present when their daughter graduated 
from College. I had a curiosity to examine the rec- 
ords and found that the County was taxed almost 
$35.00 by this cormorant, that they might enjoy the 
pleasure of seeing the young lady take her degree. 
One-third of this amount would pay the expense of 
this journey. This is only the beginning. It will 
cost the State hundreds of dollars more before they 
are free from this burden. Had it not been for the 
fee-system, the child would have been adopted with- 
out cost to the public. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


173 


“Let us make it impossible, if we can, for a man 
to charge up his family expenses to the tax-payer, 
and use a poor child as his opportunity. Let the 
State protect itself, as far as possible, from such 
shameless greed. I am glad to commend the Gov- 
ernor and Board of Control for bringing about a 
great decrease in the number of dependent children 
kept at public expense. We should still further 
strengthen the placing-out arm of this service. We 
are coming back to the original purpose, viz., to 
use these buildings at the State School chiefly as a 
‘clearing-house. 5 There may always be a very small 
residuum of unattractive (not defective and not delin- 
quent) children that no family will receive. These 
may have to be kept in an Institution. As for the 
rest, the sooner they go out the better. Why do I 
say this? Not to criticise the management; I believe 
that to be good. Wholly because their detention is 
terribly expensive and the philosophy is radically 
wrong. Let us thank our authorities for this new 
departure, and go forward to still better things. 

“I am persuaded that the State and the Voluntary 
Societies can co-operate fully in home-finding — the 
State because it has the longer purse, taking the 
undesirable class; and the Societies educating the 
people through the pulpit and the press. Even now, 
as a result of their pleadings, the State is finding 
more and better homes than ever before. It is a 
blessed and beautiful thing to see benefactors ‘dwell 


174 


Grace Porter; 


together in unity.’ Let us rejoice that this consum- 
mation has been already reached. 

“Now on the Third Resolution 

“Mr. President and Fellow-Senators: I speak to 
you, but my words are intended for the people of 
the State, and the Nation. It may not be very 
objectionable to appoint an inexperienced man, for 
partisan reasons, as Keeper of the Public Property, 
or Game Warden, for human life and welfare are not 
trembling in the balance. Even for positions like 
these, however, we ought to have, to use the lan- 
guage of Theodore Roosevelt, ‘men as clean as a 
hound’s tooth.’ I know the people in my District 
are beginning to ask why we cannot have trained 
men in Charity work, as we have in the Postal and 
Consular Service of the Nation. Are letters and com- 
merce more important than the happiness of human 
beings? If the former calls for an expert, shall we 
commit the latter to a novice? 

“Some months ago I was on a train with one of 
our State Officers. I took occasion to commend the 
appointment of a Superintendent of one of our Char- 
itable Institutions. I remarked, ‘That is an excellent 
appointment, for the appointee has ability, character 
and experience.’ 

“Said he, ‘Do you know, we have never learned 
that man’s politics.’ (There, said I to myself, is that 
old ghost of Banquo come to the feast again.’) 

“Aloud I replied : ‘Please do not try to find out. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


175 


Surely, it makes no difference whether he has any 
politics. He knows how to give the best care to the 
unfortunate committed to him, and certainly that is 
enough/ 

“Let us never forget that our Charitable Institu- 
tions are for our poor, bleeding and bruised fellow- 
men, and not to furnish positions for partisans. 

“It is said an English sea-captain once asked the 
King to appoint him Bishop. Laughable as this 
may appear, I dare say our Governor could tell you 
of requests as comical as that. Let everybody listen 
to this proposition. Neither the Governor nor Presi- 
dent owe any political debts. The executive office 
is a trust designed to give the people the best possible 
administration of public affairs. He is not Secretary 
of Associated Charities to give away food and cloth- 
ing, but a dispenser of Justice, and the strong friend 
of the poor and broken-hearted. The Executive 
does not want charity patronage. He would be glad 
to be delivered from the persecution of unfit men, 
who demand recognition. I am indifferent in what 
way we get relief — by the appointment of a non-parti- 
san Board, on the Civil Service plan, or some other 
way; but let us secure a speedy escape from this 
terrible incubus. 

“Senators, let us bury this cruel and costly spoils- 
fetich before we cross the boundary line of the New 
Century. Being an optimist, I expect an evolution 
toward rational methods, and a golden era in philan- 


176 


Grace Porter; 


thropy. Would it be strange when that glad day 
comes, when the weak and suffering among our citi- 
zens shall receive what belongs to them, viz., the 
services of those who toil for love and not for pay, 
whose hearts are tender and hands are skillful — I say, 
would it be strange if our children’s children look 
back and laugh at us because partisan workers (with- 
out any training) ask for positions in penal and char- 
itable Institutions, for the reason that they are Irish, 
or Swede, or German? How does this differ from 
appointing a sea-captain to be a Bishop? 

“Senators, let us in some way relieve the Execu- 
tive from this persecution. He has higher and holier 
work to do. I have been speaking as a good citizen 
to good citizens. If we look at this matter only from 
the low ground of party benefit, I would still say this 
is the wisest policy. An army is not weakened, but 
strengthened, by sending away the camp-followers; 
and a ship will double its speed by scraping off its 
barnacles. I have no individual in mind. I have no 
purpose except to secure the highest good to all our 
citizens. My heart has been in all my words. 

“Fellow Senators, I thank you for your courtesy 
to a new member. Let us write another bright page 
in the history of the century, before this book is 
closed forever. 

“Mr. President, I have finished.” 

“Shure, I am proud of me naybor,” said Jim 
Donahue, as he called at the Porter farm-house, a 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


177 


few days after the Senator had delivered his maiden 
speech. “Oi read his spache in the paper, and, fath, 
it made me remimber phwat little Dinnis said. He’s 
very shmall loike, but me Mary has him drissed in 
pants. One day he said to her, ‘Ma, the nixt time 
won’t yez shpank me pants before me puts them on?’ 
O’m afraid there was no one insoide them pants whin 
Misther Porter laid on that shingle.” 

Mrs. Porter, smiling, said, “Jl m > this I know. My 
husband has a burning desire that we may have the 
greatest mercy shown to the children who are home- 
less, and older people who are helpless. His heart 
will bleed at sight of even a bird with a broken wing, 
and Grace, the dear girl, is exactly like her father.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


A Social Mistletoe. 

The institution under the best possible management must 
continue to care for defective children, and give temporary relief f 
but it is unfitted to raise citieens who will be pillars in a 
grand commonwealth. 

For this larger sphere it has no adaptation— it is too 
crude, crippling and costly, LET IT PASS. 

T HE next day after Senator Porter 
finished his speech he wrote a 
long- letter home, in which he 
gives a fuller expression of his 
views. We reproduce it for the 
benefit of our readers. 

“Jan. 1 8th, 1899. 
“My dear Wife: — You have, of course, read about 
my maiden speech in the Senate yesterday. It is too 
early to predict the result. My associates listened 
with great attention. I trust a new impetus was 
given to the social revolution that is sweeping over 
the country with great power. I am glad to learn 
that our State Public School for Dependent Children 
has been so diligently placing them out in families, 
the past two years, that the number there has been 
reduced one-half, and those remaining count only a 
hundred and forty. I am told by those in control 
that this number will be still further reduced. I also 
learn that the Superintendent of our Reform School 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


179 


for boys has greatly strengthened the placing-out 
arm of his work, and more of the delinquent class are 
paroled in good families than ever before. 

“As Mr. Davis will soon make his annual visit to 
our church, I will let him tell you what has been 
accomplished by the Children’s Home Society. Per- 
haps you have not heard that the Missouri Synod of 
the Lutheran Church in our State have incorporated 
a Society, called the “Lutheran Children’s Friends 
Society.” They employ two agents and have an 
office in the Germania Building, Milwaukee. They 
have already placed in Lutheran families about half 
of the orphans that were formerly crowded into their 
Orphanage at Wittenberg. Hereafter they will place 
their homeless children directly in their own families. 

“The Roman Catholic Church has caught the 
progressive spirit of these humane times, is begin- 
ning to open the doors of their Orphanages, and soon 
will place all their bright, healthy children carefully 
and quickly in the circle of their best homes. It is a 
healthy symptom when we see the Orphanages 
depleted, and this work relegated to the family, where 
it belongs. A friend tells me he has often, when in 
California, found a bunch of mistletoe growing on 
an oak tree. It is an abnormal development, what is 
known in scientific language as a parasite. Applying 
this illustration to society, we may easily see that the 
oak represents the State, the limbs are the families, 
the twigs are the children nurtured in the families. 


180 


Grace Porter; 


What place has the Orphanage? No natural place at 
all. Philosophically it is a social mistletoe. 

“It is my belief that our State, as well as some 
others, is s© wedded to the oak that we will never 
fall in love with the mistletoe. The Great West 
seems likely now to escape the blight and burden of 
‘institutionalism.’ Going eastward, we shall soon 
find proofs of our great deliverance. For example, 
look at Ohio with its fifty County Dependent Homes. 
These appear to have been built up by the power of 
imitation. Other Counties have one, and to be in 
fashion we must have one, too. If they would limit 
their work to the defectives — since nothing better 
seems possible with this class — these County Homes, 
well managed, would prove a blessing. If for any 
reason, in a few cases, we cannot employ the branch 
to develop the twigs, perhaps the parasite is better 
than nothing; but let us never resort to the mistle- 
toe, where we can make use of the oak and its limbs. 
Let it not be said, in Ohio or anywhere else, that it is 
needful to take a child to an Institution to fit it for 
a family. God has made him ready for domestic 
love and life. If you remove a little tree from the 
forest, the quicker you transplant it in your yard the 
better. If you can complete the removal in an hour, 
that is best. So the child has tendrils that will take 
hold of the new home, at once. Every day of wait- 
ing, if you must transplant a child, is not a help but 
a hindrance. He will take root better to-day than 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


181 


to-morrow. There is nothing- to gain, and very 
much to be lost, by delay. Dropping my figure, let 
me say in plain words, when anyone has a homeless 
child in his hands, let him only wait long enough to 
cut his hair, give him a bath, put on a new suit and 
then take him to a good family for adoption, before 
the sun goes down. * * * Go farther east, and 

sthe incubus is still greater. The climax of Insti- 
tutionalism is reached in the State of New York. 
During the year ending September 30th, 1895, 
almost Thirty Thousand children were cloistered in 
so-called Homes in the cities of New York and 
Brooklyn. This is approximately one in every two 
hundred of the population of the entire State. It 
looks as if the mistletoe is trying to be the oak. It 
can be safely said that such a condition is a curse to 
Society. One of these Institutions has more than 
Two Thousand Children (this is a church Orphan- 
age). Most of them are there simply because they 
were hungry and homeless. Think of it ! Two regi- 
ments of little boys and girls, guilty of no offenses, 
shut up as if they were criminals, within a city that 
claims to be in the forefront of civilization. Still 
worse, this Institution has been in the habit of 
demanding and receiving vast sums of money from 
the State Treasury by successive acts of the Legisla- 
ture. The plan is to have a crowd of children so as 
to give occasion for demanding large sums of the 
public money, and thus, the more poor children they 


182 


Grace Porter; 


can capture and keep, the larger the revenue, and 
the greater the profit. Who receives the profit? 
That inures not to the benefit of the oak, but of the 
mistletoe. Not only should all public subsidy be cut 
off, but great aggregations of children, growing up 
to be dependent, should be recognized as an element 
of danger to the State. The Legislature of that State 
and every State should make it a criminal offense to 
rob thousands of innocent children of the life and 
love that belongs to them by the laws of the Creator. 
Oh, that the good citizens of the Empire State would 
hear the cry of these little captives, break down 
legally these doors, and let them go out to make 
glad the hearts of the childless ! Too much mistletoe 
for one oak, though it be large and strong! New 
York ought not to be too old to learn. On this sub- 
ject of dependent children she can gain wisdom from 
some of her younger sisters in the West. 

“What could be done for those thirty thousand 
children? Suppose five thousand of them are defect- 
ives. Suppose five thousand more are delinquents. 
Could good family homes be found for twenty thou- 
sand children now cloistered in the City of Greater 
New York? A conservative estimate would give that 
State a million family homes. If every tenth family 
is childless, there must be one hundred thousand 
families of that class alone. If one out of every five 
of these would receive a single child, the problem 
would be solved, without going outside of the State 
and utilizing only childless homes. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


183 


“How could the cost of placing them in good 
families be met? The current expenses of maintain- 
ing these Institutions (not counting any interest on 
money invested in buildings) is more than two mil- 
lion five hundred thousand dollars annually. If what 
is thus used for six months were spent in placing 
twenty thousand in family homes, it would give an 
average of more than sixty dollars a child. This 
would do the work well and maintain a careful super- 
vision afterward. 

“Why is this not done, when it would be so eco- 
nomical and be such a blessing to the children? The 
answer is plain. Those in charge are not planning 
for either economy or the highest welfare of the 
children. The Managers want something to manage ; 
while to those who are employed it has become a 
kind of a second nature, and they would feel lost 
without their pet Institution. In some cases this 
inhumanity goes on the name of humanity, because 
a church is given precedence over the State. What 
about the good citizens whose money is wasted to 
cripple these children in mind and heart, and pre- 
vent their becoming good citizens? Oh, they are 
busy with other things; and they are so accustomed 
to this sort of robbery, they hardly give it a passing 
thought. It seems as if nothing short of a social 
earthquake would ever waken up the people of New 
York to the wrong and waste of institutionalism. My 
heart bleeds for these twenty thousand poor children, 


184 Grace Porter; 

who could and ought, at once, to be placed in choice 
family homes. 

“Excuse me for writing so much on this subject 
and so little of other events. You know I have con- 
secrated my powers fully to the rescue of friendless 
children, that they may be an honor to the Common- 
wealth. Give my love to all the family. If there is 
any marked change in mother, wire me at once. Tell 
her I will be home the evening before her birthday, 
next week, and spend the day with my family. Speak- 
ing of Grandma reminds me of a little story I have 
just read in a paper. It will be of special interest 
to Mark and Mabel, and so I send you the clipping.” 

GROWING A GRANDMOTHER. 

He was a wee little man, only three years old, but 
very brave, courageous, and uncomplaining — more 
courageous and uncomplaining than any one knew, 
for though he was only a baby, he had trials to bear, 
says the New York Times. The family had gone to 
a new country in the far West — the mamma, this 
little man and the sister, a little older. 

It was a very new country, very different from the 
cities in the East, where they had left many friends, 
relatives, and, nearest of all, a dear old grandmother. 
The mamma was so busy in her new home that she 
had little time to devote to the babies except to see 
that they were clean and well fed. So the little ones 
were lonesome, sometimes, as mamma found out 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


185 


one day in a way that brought the tears to her eyes. 

The little three-year-old had been very busy and 
very quiet, making a big hole in the ground with 
such earnestness of purpose that, fearing the little 
fellow was planning some mischief, she went to see 
what was being done. 

The hole was completed when she reached the 
spot, and in it had been placed something that she 
took out and examined with wondering curiosity. It 
was the strangest thing to go into a hole in the 
ground — an old daguerreotype, a picture of the dear 
grandmamma at home. 

“Why, baby,” exclaimed mamma, “what are you 
doing with this?” 

“I fought,” said the little man, with a quivering 
lip and all the pent-up loneliness of homesickness in 
his voice as he tried to explain, “I fought, maybe, if 
I planted it, anozzer grandma would grow.” 

2d P. S. — It is assumed as an axiom in this letter 
that it is unjust to deprive any one of family life unless 
he is dangerous to Society. We have no more right 
to imprison a child who is harmless than we have to 
imprison a man who is neither insane nor criminal. 

Affectionately, 


David. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


A Bird’s Egg Used for a Text. 

The family should be the place where all are doing their 
own part to bless all the others. — J. B. Lee, D. D. 

UR narrative takes us back to the 
last days of “sweet and sunny 
May,” 1898. John is at Camp 
Thomas, Chickamauga Park. It 
is Saturday morning, and Grace, 
who is Assistant Principal of the 
High School, is at home with her mother, sharing 
the joys of household work. A noble girl can best 
reveal her nobleness by the loving help, unsought, 
she gives her mother. To-day Mark and Mabel have 
no use for the dog-cart, which by inheritance came 
to them from Grace and John. They have a promise 
which fills them with delight. Grandma will go with 
them down to the meadow and take a stroll, beside 
the brook. They will hold the buttercups to each 
other’s chin and laugh to find they both like butter. 
They will hear the bobolinks sing. But, best and 
sweetest of all music, they will sit down in the daisies, 
and listen to the quiet talk of Grandma. It is some- 
thing of a task to give this pleasure to the dear chil- 
dren. Very slowly she walks, with a child holding 
her hand on either side. Soon after passing through 



A Jewel Lost and Found. 


187 


the gate into the meadow a bird flies upward, just 
before their feet. Mark says, “Wait, there’s a nest. 
Grandma, you and Mabel sit down beside it a minute. 
I will run to the fence and get a stick.” 

He was gone. (Reader, you will remember when 
he could hardly walk at all. Surely, charity hath the 
greatest of all dividends.) 

In a few minutes he returns and drives the stick 
beside the nest. 

“Grandma, Mabel and I know where there are a 
dozen nests. I mark them so we can watch the little 
birds bye and bye.” The boy drops down in the 
grass beside the nest, and with the flowers blooming 
at their feet, and a white, rainless cloud hanging like 
a canopy above their heads, this aged Prophetess of 
the Lord preaches a little sermon that will linger for- 
ever in the memory of the children. She holds her 
text in her trembling hand. It is a little speckled egg. 

“See, my darlings, how God loves the beautiful. 
No human artist can rival this painting. See how 
the colors blend. And the arrangement of the little 
spots, what order they show. All the boasted wisdom 
of man cannot make this delicate shell, or curve it 
into this oval form. Inside, in embryo, there lies a 
birdling waiting its release. We must not stay here 
too long, or it will never come forth — the shell will 
be its coffin. When we go away the mother-bird will 
fly back. She is watching us now, sitting on yonder 
tree-top. She longs to return. This longing we call 


188 


Grace Porter; 


instinct. It is the thought of God in the heart of the 
bird. She wants to be a mother. She wants bird- 
lings in this nest. So she will sit and wait. In a few 
days the eggs will be gone. You have seen so many 
nests, you know already. The birdlings cannot see 
for a while, but they can hear. They will open their 
mouths very wide and the mother-bird will feed them. 
God says, 'Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.' 
He must have been thinking of little birds. All of 
these wonderful things couldn't just happen. This 
egg proves there is a God. He loves order and 
beauty. He has wisdom. He has power. He is love . 
Just open your soul-mouth, children, and God will 
feed you. We must go now.” 

A robin, on a low bough overhanging the brook, 
chants the Doxology, and the service is ended. 
Before they have gone a hundred feet the mother- 
bird is sitting in her nest again. 

"What a funny girl Grace must have been,” says 
Mabel. "She used to call this side of the brook a 
beach, and said she 'loved to see the lambs a-wan- 
derin’ on the beach.' Oh, there are the lambs now, 
Grandma, running races over there in the pasture!” 

"I am glad we live in the country,” echoed Mark, 
"aren’t you, Mabel? I wouldn't like a hot, stuffy 
city.” 

Thus they talk and ramble on and on. Bye and 
bye a new thought strikes Mabel, and, taking off her 
shoes, she wades in the brook. Grandma sits down 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


189 


to rest. Mark wanders here and there for half an 
hour. Then he comes bounding back, and with a 
smile he places a crown of flowers on the head of 
Grandma. It was platted of daisies, with meadow 
violets between. Then they kiss this, their “Queen 
of the May.” Folding an arm about each, she whis- 
pers, “May the Shepherd guard these lambs ever- 
more.” 

The dinner-horn calls them home at noon. The 
peace of heaven dwells in their hearts, and the glory 
of the sunshine rests on their heads. A good many 
things of interest happen that summer and autumn. 

Arthur and Ruth Willard spend half of August 
as guests in the old farm-house. Jim Donahue and 
John are now in Porto Rico. Anxiety for them 
gives just a touch of sadness to the home-life. The 
story of their sufferings was told before, and need not 
be repeated. Mary and Dennis welcome their hero 
back from the war. Later, Pauline Porter returns 
with John. The joy of the family is unrestrained, as 
when marriage bells are ringing. Still later, David 
Porter, after a canvass without a scandal, is elected 
Senator from the Thirty-fifth District. 

For weeks Grace has been at her desk, and Mark 
is in his usual place at school. Mabel stays at home 
this term, and, a few days after Pauline Porter returns 
with John, is taken by her mother to the Milwaukee 
Children’s Hospital. A painless operation follows, 
and the sightless eye is replaced by an artificial one. 


190 Grace Porter; 

Mabel, as happy as a bird, returns home early in 
December. 

***** 

From far and near the children of Margaret Porter 
gather on Christmas Morning. All the living are 
there. (Who shall affirm the invisible are absent?) 
They know it is the last time. Like Elisha following 
Elijah, so they walk with mother to-day beside the 
Jordan. She will, soon cross over and they will be 
left. Tender hands bear her to an easy chair at the 
head of the table. All instinctively bow their heads, 
and in a low, sweet voice Grandma says grace. 

“Lord, we thank Thee for Thy goodness which 
crowns the year. May we trust Thee. May we be 
grateful. Hear and answer, O Lord, Thine hand- 
maiden, as she asks that all these, her children and 
children’s children, may come at last where the 
Christ has gone, and ‘Now lettest Thou Thy servant 
depart in peace, according to Thy word, for mine 
eyes have seen Thy salvation.’ ” 

The family fellowship is sweetened by the presence 
of the Lord ; and though there is a tinge of sorrow 
(the “valley of the shadow” was visible just before 
the feet of the dear Grandma), the communion of 
loving hearts is still very delightful. After dinner, 
Mrs. Pauline Porter says, “Mabel will give us a 
charming little poem she repeated last night at the 
Christmas gathering in our church.” 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


191 


Modestly the child renders these lines, from the 
New York Evangelist: 

;< Some things in this world 
Seem tangled and mixed, 

The threads of a skein 
All knotted betwixt, 

And how to unravel them 
Who can pretend? 

Yet all will be evened 
By Christ in the end. 

A glorified Angel 

May sleep in that child, 

The girl that is barefoot 
Disheveled and wild. 

Oh, for a mother 

This lambkin to tend! 

But all will be evened 
By Christ in the end. 

A hero immortal 

To rank with the great, 

•r May hide in that Arab, 

Who plays at the gate. 

Oh, men ! to the rescue, 

Like Christ, condescend; 

Know all will be evened 
By Christ in the end.” 

Reader, have you ever been called to turn your 


192 


Grace Porter; 


foot-steps away from your birthplace, having for the 
last time looked in the living face of mother? 

The author recalls that hour, and after more than 
two decades of years remembers it, at this moment, 
as the darkest Gethsemane of life. Even now, as in 
a vision, Margaret Porter sees “Him Who is Invisi- 
ble/’ and seeing there is no room for tears. Tender- 
ness rules the parting hour. Few words are spoken, 
for speech, too, seems out of place. “The deeps are 
forever silent.” One by one the children and grand- 
children of Margaret Porter come to her bedside, as 
the sun is setting, drop on their knees, feel the gentle 
pressure of her arm about their neck, and hear her 
whisper, “Farewell, my child. In my Father’s house 
are many mansions. Meet me there.” 

As each looks back a moment from the threshold, 
he sees a celestial light — beholds, as it were, “the face 
of an angel.” 

When all have gone, and only David is sitting by 
her side, she quietly closes her eyes. He thinks she 
is falling asleep. A few seconds later her lips part 
and she slowly calls this roll of names: Father, 
Mother, Albert, Almon, Miranda, Maria, Delia, Lina. 

Is the roll complete? All except the names of the 
living. One brother (Albert) had left the earth-life 
more than forty years before, yet he too, like Moses 
and Elijah, has come back to this new Mount of 
Transfiguration. Her son sees nothing. His “eyes 
were holden.” She was looking through the gates. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


19$ 


She has vision illimitable. The radiance has passed 
by. Her eyes open. “David !” “Mother !” The 
mansions are not yet ready. The call will come. She 
will patiently wait. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


Transfiguration of Margaret Porter. 

I desire to be so trained by the experiences of this life as to 
be fitted for any service in any world. — Prof. J. J. Blaisdell. 



OR some weeks the eye of watch- 
ers could mark no change. She 
told David to go to his place in 
the Senate. 


“I am proud,” she said, “to 
know that my son will serve 


the Commonwealth. 

“Mother, your wish is law.” 

He was gone. 

One day, when the pastor called, he raised his 
voice a little (her hearing was now heavy), “Mrs. 
Porter, do the truths of the Gospel support you ? Are 
the foundations firm?” 

“For seventy years, since I was a girl of ten, I 
have daily lived a life of trust. That anything could 
fail me now has never entered my thoughts. I have 
not even prayed for dying grace. I know not what 
is best. ‘All the way He leads me.’ I simply ask 
Him to send me what I need. He knows.” 

* * * * * 

It was the evening of January 25th, 1899. David 
Porter came on the evening train. To-morrow will 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


195 


be her birthday. Her pilgrimage has lasted four 
score years. 

* * * * * 

Thursday morning dawns — a perfect winter day. 
Grace and the children go to school, as usual. It was 
her wish. She wanted all to discharge their duty. 
They could show her no higher mark of respect. Is 
heaven a place of rest? If so, this was a heavenly 
day in the dear old home. There was quietude every- 
where. The dog ceases his barking. The cattle 
forget their lowing in the barn-yard. The neighbors 
dropping in speak in whispers. John, who has 
charge of the farm this winter, is coming and going. 
David Porter and wife are watching to see the ‘char- 
iot and the horsemen thereof/ Grace, Mark and 
Mabel come home from school. Jim and Mary Dona- 
hue call at the going down of the sun. They bring 
a gift of eighty white rosebuds in the form of a 
wreath. Pauline takes it within and lays it on the 
pillow beside her. It is her coronation day. The 
hours pass slowly by. The hand points to nine 
o'clock. They all stand a few moments beside the 
bed. Her son repeats the words, “ I will not leave 
you comfortless. I will come to you." Her lips 
part. She speaks in a whisper, “He has come." 

“Papa and mamma," says Grace, “please take 
Mark and Mabel and go to bed. You are very tired. 
The change may not come before to-morrow. I will 
stay with her until one o’clock. John will take the 


196 


Grace Porter; 


morning watch.” They consent and lie down to rest. 

As each in turn touches her forehead with loving 
lips, her only words are, “I am so tired” 

* * * * * 

The noble girl is alone, and yet not alone. “The 
Chiefest among ten thousand” is by her side. She 
has fellowship with the Infinite. The hours pass on. 
At 1 1 130 she still sits watching. Margaret Porter is 
sleeping quietly. Very slowly the wraps that cover 
her rise and fall. Presently Grace realizes that this 
movement has ceased. The chariot has come and 
gone, and though watching, she saw not the glory. 
She looks at the calm face illumined by a smile. She 
understands. The soul has passed into the beyond. 
The transfiguration of Margaret Porter is complete. 

“I am glad they let me watch,” says Grace, as she 
goes to waken her father, mother and brother John. 
Mark and Mabel will not know until morning. Then 
for the first time they will stand face to face with the 
great mystery. 

* * * * * 
The date is January 29th, 1899. It is a clear, sun- 
lit Sabbath. The earth is wrapped in a bridal robe 
of immaculate whiteness. The clock strikes three. 
The neighbors are quietly gathering in the old farm- 
house. The rooms are filled. Some of the children 
are here. Others live so far away, they cannot come. 
It matters little, for they were here Christmas. They 
could not see her now. She has gone to her kingdom. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


197 


Ten minutes later a hush falls on the people. The 
sweet voices of a quartette begin to chant the trium- 
phant verses of Muhlenberg. 

“I would not live alway, I ask not to stay 

Where storm after storm hovers dark o'er my way." 

It had been her favorite hymn. 

Comforting selections of scripture fall like music 
on their ears. The pastor speaks briefly. The sermon 
is rich in spiritual thought. It has its key-note in the 
language of Job, “All the days of my appointed time 
I will wait till my change come." 

“The true Christian life is a patient waiting ‘till 
He come.' Waiting does not imply idleness. ‘I say 
unto you, watch,’ said the Master. A change is com- 
ing. For those who patiently wait there will come a 
crowning day. 

“This life was an embodiment of the text. She 
waited — all her appointed time — she waited. Her 
change has come. ‘She beholds the King in His 
beauty.’ ’’ 

The Shepherd fed his flock that day. All listen 
and follow the pastor’s thought, save two. These are 
Mark and Mabel. They are living in the past. They 
are down by the brook. The daisies are at their feet. 
They hear the robin sing. They see the little speck- 
eled egg in her hand. They have not forgotten her 
words, “This egg proves there is a God. He loves 
beauty. He has wisdom. He is love. Open your 
soul-mouth and He will fill it.’’ They are receptive, 


198 


Gkace Porter; 


they are feeding now — not so much on this sermon, 
which hearing they hear not, but on that wonderful 
one, that lives in their memory, coming up from the 
bird’s nest down in the meadow. 

Again the choir are singing. It is another favorite. 

“One sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o’er and o’er ; 

I’m nearer home to-day, to-day, 

Than I have been before.” 

***** 

The cemetery is reached. The hand of Pauline 
rests on the arm of her husband. Grace walks with 
John, and Mark with Mabel. Next after the relatives 
come Jim and Mary. It is their rightful place, for 
Mary always loved the children, and Donahue saved 
the soldier’s life on the sea. They stand now' beside 
the couch where her weary body will rest. Branches 
of hemlock cover all the sides. The 1 green is a 
prophesy. It seems to whisper immortality. The 
casket is lowered. The sun is setting. His glory 
crowns the western hills. • “I am the Resurrection 
and the life,” says the pastor, in a voice scarcely above 
the breath of the wintry wind. 

David, Pauline and John have turned toward their 
sleigh. The company is leaving in groups. Almost 
unnoticed, Mark and Mabel step forward, and Mark, 
drawing something from under his coat, drops it 
quickly into the “narrow house.” Grace sees the 
movement, and looking down, she sees Donahue’s 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


199 


wreath of roses resting above the unthrobbing heart, 
and a chaplet of daisies, with violets between, above 
the peaceful head. This had been bought by Mark 
and Mabel with their hoarded dimes. It spoke of 
their loving gratitude. 

Years before Mrs. Porter had said to her son, 
“Take these homeless children, David — they will 
complete your family.” 

* * * * * 

They are back in their beloved home. They do 
not think of her as dead. It seems as if she might 
at any moment come out of her chamber, and sit 
again in her easy chair. If anything is unreal, it is 
her casket and her grave. As for her, her life, her- 
self — she was never so real, so manifest, before. They 
will always see her face and hear her voice. Margaret 
Porter is not dead — she is only transfigured. 

* * * * * 

It is ten o’clock at night. The tired children are 
sweetly sleeping. “Their angels” guard their bed. 
The passing winds are whispering in the tops of the 
elms. The roof of the farmhouse is touched by the 
radiance that falls from the milky way. There is 
“Peace on earth.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


4 4 Lest you forget we say it yet.” 

Nothing in a human way is more precious than a 
mother’ slove t and next to a mother stands one who in all sincerity 
has heart-love enough to take a mothei'’s place toward an 
r p han. — J. M. McNulty, D. D. 



[R. PORTER arranges with his 
pastor to have Mr. Davis present 
at the prayer meeting, on the 
evening of Wednesday, February 
15th, 1899. He wants him for his 
guest on the following day. A 
notice is also sent to all who feel a special interest, 
and they gladly come. As usual, the pastor gives Mr. 
Davis a good deal of time to emphasize the philoso- 
phy, and also the benefits to the community resulting 
from the work of the Children’s Home Society. This 
is an outline of his address : 

Nearly 200 children were placed in families last 
year by the Society — 800 in all. 

As many more were placed out from institutions 
because of the Society’s parallel work compelling it. 

Very many more were kept from institutions and 
from dependency because of raised sentiment and 
enforced laws. 

There is better physical, mental and moral care of 
children in institutions — reforms effected. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


201 


Higher ideals have been established as to early 
care of children all children — in homes or out. 

It is easier to find good homes now than five 
years ago, because of the Society’s way of work — 
hundreds of families apply for children now, to tens 
before. 

Eighty thousand dollars, at a low estimate, as a 
result of our work in this State, was saved last year 
in the care of children alone, not to speak of preven- 
tion of vagrancy and crime, and their immense cost. 

The progress of the Principle and Method 
amounts to a social revolution, in the care of de- 
pendent children. 

Twenty-four states of the Union are organized for 
this work — many statesmen are officers. 

A distinct movement has sprung up among the 
Roman Catholics, led by Archbishop Ireland, to place 
children in families without passing* them through 
an institution. 

The United States government nuts out the young 
Indians from its schools, in good families for train- 
ing and care. 

Booker Washington’s main work is to teach the 
negroes to build a two-room house — a better moral 
home for their children. 

Several countries have recently adopted this 
principle and method. Germany cared for one- 
fourth of all its dependent children in that way last 
year. 

Massachusetts cares for all its dependent children 
by this method — has no state institution for them. 


202 


Grace Porter; 


All honorable men who have had actual experience 
in the care of such children favor this method. 

Many judges commit now to this Society, who 
formerly sent children to public and private institu- 
tions. 

The committee of the Milwaukee County Board 
of Supervisors, reported after thorough investigation, 
three of the committee being Catholics and two 
Protestants, that the Board must “get the children 
into homes as soon as possible .” 

Over 500 supervisors have passed this resolution 
in their respective boards, that the Children’s Home 
Society offers “the best, most humane and most 
economical means of caring for dependent children.” 

PRESENT PLATFORM. 

The platform of the society is: That no parent, 
guardian, officer, or judge of court has the moral 
right to commit a dependent child to any institution, 
while a good family is ready to receive that child as 
their own. A child should never know a day when 
it has not a home and a mother. 

The reasons are these : 

The child needs the family home. 

The family needs the child. There is no escape 
from the logic that if God put the two together by 
nature’s laws, the family needs the child, just as much 
as the child needs the family. 

Society is saddled with vast and ^needless expense 
through the sending of the dependents to institu- 
tions-*— ten times as much as through giving them 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


203 


family homes. Why spend $10 to do a thing in the 
wrong way when $i will do it in the right way? 

The State is saddled with an increase of dependent 
children. The state or county that places its de- 
pendent children immediately in families decreases 
the percentage of such children. The state or county 
that sends them to institutions increases the per- 
centage. Compare California with one dependent 
child under 12 for every 223 people and Michigan 
with one to every 10,468 of its people. 

The best homes will not take these children after 
they have been registered and committed as public 
paupers. 

The Divine law commands that “thou bring him 
that is cast out to thy house” — not to a public barrack 
to be left to the care of hired servants. 

The home training only guarantees good character 
and good citizenship in the child when adult, and 
the State has a right to defend its future by putting 
such children in good families. 

LOCAL BENEFIT. 

Contributors should know that $10 given to this 
cause goes as far as $100 given for the care of 
children in any other way. That what is given one 
day goes to place a child the next, as a child is placed 
every other day throughout the year. That the 
money does not go into brick and mortar, fuel and 
food, but into the slight cost of transfer of the child 
into its new family home— into the saving of the char- 
acter and soul of the needy one— an eternal memoral 
for a temporal gift. 


204 


Grace Porter; 


And now, my friends, let me take you more fully 
into my confidence, and tell you a little about a book, 
that will soon be issued. You will read it of course. 
It is called “Grace Porter; a Jewel Lost and 
Found”. In it the author relates real events. He has 
a plan which enables him to stocking a good many 
truths and hang them up before the reader as on a 
Christmas tree, which could not be made so attractive 
and readable in any other way. 

You will recognize the scene of the coming story. 
It is laid in this neighborhood. The Porter family 
are averse to the notoriety, but are willing to have 
their domestic history told, for the sake of the good 
that may be accomplished. The same is true of others 
whose names appear — they have all given their full 
consent. Mr. Edwards (in this story) is one of the 
agents, under an assumed name. You have already 
guessed that Mr. Davis and the author are the same 
person. He might as well be frank and confess it. 
The story about Jennie and Agnes is true. The story 
of Fred and Charles is also true. You know these 
young people well. They are all here to-night. The 
lady who appears as Mrs. Hamilton told this pathetic 
story of repression of the child-nature to the author. 
He has read the printed rule for training children not 
to cry. A matron of an Institution used the very lan- 
guage ascribed to her in chapter Seven. Our 
agent made the proposition in good faith to take all 
their children, and his offer was not considered. A 


A Jewel Lost and Found 


205 


similar offer has been made by our Society to another 
Orphanage, with the same result. He states the facts 
and leaves the reader to draw his own conclusions. 

The author has spent many years in the work of 
child rescue. He has been led to study carefully the 
great problem of the homeless child. This involves 
a consideration of many things including, besides the 
child, the Institution, the family, the father and 
mother, law and legislation, mental and moral train- 
ing, and above all the building of the Commonwealth 
and the Nation. It is his firm conviction that all In- 
stitutions for the care of the dependent child of sound 
mind and body, and not criminal, should change their 
methods at once. It is cruel to herd any children 
that worthy families of the highest type are not only 
willing but eager to receive. Let this class go out 
immediately to commune with nature, and know 
parental love. Instead of these let Institutions, both 
public and private, receive the defectives. Great num- 
bers of this class remain unsheltered. Some barbar- 
ous lands, (like India and China), have no pure family 
homes. There, but nowhere else, the Institution is 
best equipped for the culture of childhood. 

This book willl teach the importance of selecting 
the family who is to train the child, with the greatest 
care and judgment, and the need of prudent visita- 
tion afterward. In a relatively small number of cases 
there are limitations in the mind or body of the de- 
pendent child that make family life impossible. With 


206 


Grace Porter; 


these exceptions we dare not raise any other barrier 
against a home for every homeless child if we love 
God and love the State. 

The family — we can not repeat it too often — is the 
true unit of society and its welfare will always meas- 
ure the life and strength of the Commonwealth. This 
story will teach the self-evident truth that congestion 
of the population is a curse, and for the resulting evils 
dispersion is the only rational cure. It will insist time 
and again that contact with nature in her fairest forms 
is not only a benediction to the life, but an essential 
element in building a strong, symmetric, beautiful 
character. 

Knowing these truths to be eternal the author has 
built them into a foundation and on it erected the 
house of this story. 

* * * * 

Charles and Fred Campbell come forward with 
their sisters to greet Mr. Davis. Agnes and Jennie 
Andrews soon join this happy group, and all send 
their love to Mr. Edwards. Mark Porter walks to his 
home in company with Mr. Davis, where Mabel waits 
to throw her arms about the neck of her benefactor. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

A Family Anniversary. 

When we walce in the morning and recognize a change in 
the world without; blossoms on the trees , verdure on the sward, 
warmth in the sunshine and music in the air we say spring has 
come. It semis to me that the coming of love is like the coming 
of spring. — Bulwer. * 


HE next morning the train brings 
Arthur and Ruth Willard, who are 
at once taken by John, in his 
sleigh, to the Porter homestead. 

(It may be best to say, in paren- 
r§S?i thesis, that the railroad had re- 
ceived quite a revenue from Arthur Willard during 
the past two years. He had visited the home under 
the elms every holiday, and it is believed he had in- 
vented some new holidays besides. The influence 
that draws him hither will soon appear. Grace, when 
a child, was called the “little unlocker of hearts.” 
This power has never been lost.) 

The 1 6th day of February, 1899, is a day of glad- 
ness to David and Pauline Porter. It is the thirtieth 
anniversary of their marriage. Their love has grown 
in strength and beauty through all these years. 
Planning for the children, who came in out of the 
frosts of the world and have been warmed in their 



208 


Grace Porter; 


bosom, has kept them youthful in spirit. This couple 
will grow old in their outer life, but they have “scat- 
tered” so much and so long they will continue to “in- 
crease” in their inner life all the days of their pilgrim- 
age. 

It did not seem wise or best to have a large com- 
pany on this memorial day. The invitations are very 
limited in number. Beside Arthur and Ruth Willard, 
Mr. Davis has received this honor. (It is a common 
result that adopting parents, beside the child, take 
also the friend who brings them their treasure into 
their very heart of hearts.) Reader, guess who be- 
sides these three are present on this day of jubilation. 
The Porters have planned to make this a day wherein 
they would gratefully recall the goodness of God. The 
company would have been incomplete without the 
presence of their neighbors on the east, the family 
who live in the “swate little cottage on the hill.” Jim, 
Mary and little “Dinnis” are there, of course. 

All have left their burdens behind to-day, which is 
equivalent to saying it was a wise and philosophical 
party. Those who walk in the path of duty, as the 
Divine Spirit reveals the footsteps of duty, are sure 
to have a life of calm serenity. “Thou wilt keep him 
in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee, be- 
cause he trusteth in Thee.” 

When dinner is announced they take their seats as 
follows : Mrs. Pauline Porter sits on the right of her 
husband at the head of the table. At the right of Mrs. 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


209 


Porter, on the side, are seated Grace, Arthur, Ruth 
and Mr. Davis. Jim and Mary sit at the opposite end, 
with “Dinnis” in a high chair between them. On the 
left side are seated Mark and Mabel, with John in the 
center. Next to Mr. Porter, on his left, is placed his 
mother’s arm-chair. Her picture is hanging opposite 
on the wall. By common consent all bow their heads 
a moment in silent thanksgiving. A minute later a 
loud rap is heard at the door. Mr. Porter, opening it, 
finds on the door-step a boy without overcoat or rub- 
bers, who seems to be a stranger. His size suggests he 
may be ten years of age. Bringing him in without 
asking him any questions, Mr. Porter quietly re- 
marks, “Here is a guest whom the Lord has sent,” 
and at once seats the shrinking child in the chair be- 
side him. With one accord all turn and look at the 
calm sweet face which seems to be looking kindly 
down out of the frame, on every one of them. 

A few minutes later Mr. Davis says, “I want to 
thank Mr. and Mrs. Porter for bringing Ruth here, at 
that Christmas time; for that led her into the work 
of our Society. Having been with us now nearly a 
year, candor compels me to say she is one of our most 
consecrated helpers.” 

“Ruth, my dear friend, are you happy in this work 
for homeless children?” says Mrs. Porter. 

“My cup runneth over,” is her modest reply. 

The words “homeless children” have a singular 
effect upon the little stranger. He begins to sob. 


210 


Grace Porter; 


Turning toward him Mr. Porter kindly puts his hand 
on the boy’s shoulder, saying. “You are among 
friends, my boy. We will be glad to help you. I wish 
you would tell us your troubles.” His words, and the 
look of kindly sympathy on every face, wins the heart 
of the child, and he tells them his story. 

Briefly stated, the boy has a step-mother who 
wanted to get rid of him. She conspired with an 
officer who was looking for fees, and a charge of tru- 
ancy was preferred. He had been for six months in 
a Reform school. From this he had escaped. He 
was., he said, very unhappy there, and wished some- 
body would give him a chance, by taking him into 
their home. He could hardly have found a more sym- 
pathetic audience. 

“How would you like to stay here, my boy?” says 
Mr. Porter. 

“I would be very glad.” 

“Would you obey and do your best?” 

“Yes, I would.” 

“If my family do not object I am disposed to give 
you a trial. One thing is plain, my friends, this boy 
must not go back. His heart would almost break. 
Though I have often thought of doing this, perhaps 
I would not have had the courage to go and get a 
boy, but when this little fellow comes to us on the 
anniversary of the happiest day in my life, and he is 
sitting in my mother’s chair; she looking down so 
gently from the frame on the wall ; that is a different 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


211 


thing. I cannot turn you out of doors.” He waits to 
see if any of his family object. None of the family are 
deaf, but all of them are now dumb. 

Mr. Porter continues, “Your silence gives consent. 
I will see the Governor to-morrow, and also write the 
Superintendent of the Reform school, and get a pa- 
role for this boy. This is what ought to be done in 
all such cases. 

“By the way, what is your name?” 

“James Patton,” he replies. 

“Shure, Misther Porter, that will give yez two 
apostles instead of wan,” said Jim. 

Dinner was ended, but Mr. Porter said, “before 
we leave the table, my wife has an announcement to 
make. It is very appropriate for this happy anniver- 
sary day.” 

Mrs. Pauline Porter speaking in a low sweet voice 
says, “My life has been a very happy one for all these 
thirty years. There has been an added fullness and 
fruition of joy since these children came to be a part 
of our thought and being. We owe a debt of grati- 
tude we can never pay, to Ruth for leading Grace 
into the knowledge of Him who is 'the Way, the 
Truth and the Life’; to Mr. Davis who brought 
Mark and Mabel to be jewels in the crown of our do- 
mestic life ; and to Donahue for bringing John back to 
us from the very gates of death. My husband and I 
hold these things in everlasting remembrance. And 
now, turning toward the future, I will be glad to aid 


212 


Grace Porter; 


in any possible way to make James a noble man. 
Poor little fellow, he has no mother. This chair is pret- 
ty big for you, my boy, but I think I’ll let you keep it. 
Then there will be no vacant chair. But I almost for- 
got, in the exuberance of my joy, what Mr. Porter 
asked me to say. Our daughter Grace, with our full 
consent, is engaged to Arthur Willard. They will be 
married on her next birthday, the 25th of September, 
out there under the elms. You are all invited now to 
be present. We will not give away a bride, but 
through force of habit, we will adopt the bridegroom, 
and so add another son to our circle.” 

Rising from the table the young couple receive the 
hearty congratulations of all present. 

Jim Donahue says, “May yez have all the happi- 
ness ye deserve, and shure that will be enough.” 

In response to his sincere and hearty wish, Grace 
stoops and kisses little “Dinnis,” who stands wonder- 
ing what makes everybody look so happy. 

The next morning each one of these loving friends 
takes up again the burden of life— made lighter by 
being dropped for a day. 

If we could, with the wings of a bird, fly from place 
to place we would find Mr. Porter in his seat in the 
Senate, Arthur Willard at his desk, and Mr. Davis 
and Ruth gleaning life’s harvest-field ; gathering up 
patiently the little heads of golden grain that lie neg- 
lected here and there, which they will put in the 
hands of the Master when He comes again. Under 


A Jewel Lost and Found. 


213 


the elms Pauline Porter continues her patient work 
and adds new beauty to the lives of the children. (Let 
it be repeated again and again that good mothers are 
the noblest artists in all the earth.) 

John is looking after the manifold duties resting 
on his young shoulders, as faithfully as he held the 
picket line before Coamo. And Grace, while wait- 
ing for the day when she will be crowned as queen of 
another realm, quietly holds her scepter over her pres- 
ent Kingdom, thinking joyfully of the fruition of all 
this patient labor — the glad triumphant day when 
these children, that now surround her, shall take their 
places as intelligent, virtuous citizens in a strong and 
regal Commonwealth. 



































JiJN I© 1899 











